Flirting, Fraud, and Other Bar Crimes
by InMyEyes2014
Summary: Emma Swan just wants to do her job and go home to her apartment alone, but her friends have other things in mind. How far will she go to avoid their blind date offers? And how can a guy she met at a bar help her find real happiness while helping her avoid their matchmaking? Rated M for language and sexual themes.
1. Chapter 1

**_AN: I have no idea where this is coming from. I was hanging out with a friend waiting for dinner and saw this guy trying to hit on a woman in a bar. She seemed disinterested until her friends arrived and then boom she seemed to want them to see her with him. So I played with the idea slightly and came up with a new AU fic. This probably won't be that long, but I thought I'd get it out there._**

"Your aim is a little off on those last rounds," David Nolan said, barely looking up from the magazine he was reading. Leaned back against the wall, his chair only had two legs on the ground. She almost hoped he would fall on his butt, but that wouldn't be very sheriff like of him to do.

"I need to adjust the sights on the gun," she muttered. If there was one thing that Emma Swan hated, it was being corrected. She knew that people judged her as the only female law enforcement officer in the town of Storybrooke, Maine. They saw her as weak or not as good as her male counterparts. She hated them for it.

He grunted his reply as she jammed her hand against the cold steel and lifted the weapon back into position. Using her elbow against the red plastic button, she reset the target and waited for it to stop swinging. She squinted her eyes in the direction of the paper man and squeezed the trigger, firing off a succession of shots. When she was finished, she placed her weapon on the ledge and waited for the target to come closer. A small smile spread on her face as she saw that each of her shots had hit just as it should.

Whipping around, her blonde ponytail fanned out and brushed the glass of her booth. "Look at that," she said boastfully, holding the sheet out for him to see. He was not impressed.

"You really think a perp's going to wait for you to adjust your sights, Emma?" he asked, lifting his magazine closer to his face. "You'd be dead before you even got to fire a shot."

She scowled at him, ripping off the ear protection and goggles as she marched toward the nondescript door to the changing area. "I was freaking spot on, David," she said, frowning at the sample of her accomplishment before she threw it to the ground in front of him. "I am a rock star." Without waiting for an answer, she pushed her way into the room and away from the other members of the Storybrooke Sheriff's Office. She hoped they would contain their laughter until after the door slammed shut so she would not hear them. They didn't.

However, the conversation did hold off until then.

"She's actually pretty good, mate," one of the other deputies Robin said of the blonde woman. "I haven't hit at over 90 percent since…well, ever."

"She's arrogant and that leads to mistakes," David said, lowering his chair legs back to the ground and leaning to pick up the target. He inspected it, a smile spreading on her face. "She's pretty fantastic when you piss her off."

Robin chuckled, knowing that David had pissed her off more times than most men. The relationship between the sheriff and deputy was a contentious one that was best described as brother and sister. Emma, who had no parents of her own, had broken into Ruth Nolan's house at age 14. Lanky with long blonde hair and a fiery personality, she had told the older woman to send her to jail rather than back to a foster home where rumor was she had been hit and beaten on an almost daily basis. Ruth did one better. She took the girl in and gave her a home. David had been 17 at the time and taken the young girl under his wing. Though there was no official title for their friendship, everyone looked at David as her older brother. "Bet you wouldn't offer her that compliment to her face," he said, eyeing the pride on David's face as similar to his own when his son did something new.

"Of course not," David said, folding the target up to put in Emma's file. "I can't have her knowing I actually see her talent."

***AAA***

Emma's apartment in Storybrooke was on the small side, but she liked it just fine. After all those years in group homes with bunk beds stacked high, she had a place that was her own. Even at the Nolans' home her bedroom had been sparse. So what if the furniture didn't match or if the dishes she owned were cast offs of various pattern? It was hers and she was happy with it. She could walk around naked if she wanted to or watch reruns of her favorite sitcoms all night long while filing her nails. She could eat standing over the sink, ignore the phone, and sing along to 1980s music while dancing in her underwear. It was hers.

While she had told Mrs. Nolan that she was only stopping through for cash on her way to Boston or New York, she'd stayed in town and created her closest thing to roots. Two years ago, after graduating from the Maine State Community College with a degree in Criminal Justice and about $200 to her name, she had thanked the older woman and said she was going to do this on her own. The apartment was her first step toward a new life, a fresh start in the town that everyone she knew called home.

There were offers for roommates, but Emma wanted a place of her own. She loved her friends dearly, but she wanted to opportunity to get to know herself. It felt important.

Sliding down onto the couch in her favorite pair of sweat pants and fuzzy socks, Emma practically growled at the door when she first heard the knock. Nobody disturbed her on Thursday nights. It was her night to veg out with Netflix binge watching, buttery popcorn, and cold beer. It was the one night when she could not be disturbed or dissuaded from her plans by her friends and their well-meaning interference. She sank lower onto the leather sofa, as if the person on the other side of the door could actually see inside. Her television muted and the lights off, she hoped that her breathing would not give her away.

"Emma!" the voice on the other side of the door wailed. The blonde realized immediately who it was and jumped to her feet with another silent lecture on her mind. Mary Margaret Blanchard was notoriously unaware of anyone's private time when it came to her own crisis. But Emma could not really complain. The woman was so sweet that nobody could hate her. She was always there for everyone else, from being that designated driver to being the one who had tissues in her purse when the breakups got too bad to take alone. So if Mary Margaret needed her, Emma was going to return the favor.

Flinging open the door, Emma smiled sympathetically at her friend and ushered her in with a quick hug as she kicked the door back shut. "What did he do?" Emma asked, not bothering to identify the who she was talking about. Everyone knew that only David Nolan was the only one who sent the normally calm Mary Margaret into hysterics. The two had been in love since they met five years earlier; but between his father disliking her and a crazy ex-girlfriend, there were moments when it seemed it would never work.

"His father invited Katherine to join the family on a ski vacation. He didn't tell me or invite me." She sobbed loudly, covering her face with her hands. Emma took that moment of privacy to text an emergency message to their other friend, Ruby Lucas.

 **EMMA: Get your ass over here now. MM having a break down.**

 **RUBY: One bottle or two?**

 **EMMA: Bring the bar.**

Emma had managed to get the tears to stop flowing by the time the raven haired waitress arrived, two bottles of tequila in hand and her loud voice echoing in the hallway. "Never fear, Ruby's here!" she announced, dropping the bottles onto the counter and running over to hug her friend tightly. "What did the bastard do?" she asked, eyeing the pixie like brunette carefully.

Emma grabbed one of the bottles and began to pour into the mismatched shot glasses. She'd told Ruby before that they had to be careful about what they said about David. Mary Margaret was going to end up married to the man someday and they would probably be her bridesmaids. It would be awkward if they kept referring to him by derogatory names. However, everyone's nickname from Ruby was derogatory but endearing.

Mary Margaret explained the story again, telling how David had not told her that under his father's invitation his ex- fiancé was invited on this family gathering. Emma clucked sympathetically, not pointing out that as a one-time foster sister of David's she had not been invited either. It was Mary Margaret's issue not hers. She was used to being left out.

"Are you honestly thinking that he's going to do something with that woman?" Ruby asked, downing her shot in a single gulp and then shaking the glass at Emma as if to ask for more. "It's not really a good plan. Break up with the one girl your father approves of to date another just to cheat on her with the first one? I know I've accused David of being just another pretty face, but seriously. It can't be that bad. The man was in the honor society. He has to have some intelligence."

Emma nodded, ignoring Ruby's demanding request and just handing her the bottle. "It's Katherine," she added. "The woman is plain and just boring. He has been there and done that."

The short haired brunette stared hopelessly into her still full glass. Her sniffling made her shoulders jump in reaction. "I trust him," she said pitifully. "I just don't trust her."

"Good!" Ruby said with an affirmative nod. "You shouldn't. Women can't be trusted with other women's men. It's a known fact." She poured herself another shot, which she quickly downed. Ruby, who was probably the best known of the three friends around Storybrooke, was the granddaughter the famed restaurateur Granny Lucas. The older woman had a new line of pasta sauces and frozen dinners with her face on them. Ruby worked at the empire's flagship restaurant, a diner in downtown Storybrooke that was a throwback to the 1950s. She was still wearing her version of the uniform that she had altered to reveal more skin and sit tightly across her hips and bust.

"You realize that is patently untrue and closed minded," Emma said, grimacing at the way her friend characterized women. "We're not bad people just because we are women."

The raven haired beauty threw her hands up. "Not another lecture," she moaned. "I'm here to help pick up the pieces of Mary Margaret's crumbling relationship, not answer to your view of the world and all that's in it." She pursed her lips, still thickly painted as usual. "And if Mary Margaret would grow a spine when it comes to Prince Charming, I'd move on to your lack of a love life, Emma."

Emma sighed dramatically, used to the pressure from Ruby to hook up and live a little and from Mary Margaret to settle down with some nice guy and buy real estate and/or have babies. Despite the small population of Storybrooke, Maine, Emma knew of few men who Ruby had not slept with at least twice. It made for a horrible selection of men for anyone else when Ruby could recount in detail each escapade.

"Ruby has a point. It's been 10 years since…" Mary Margaret blushed, which combined with the flushing from crying made her look vaguely like she had a tomato as a head.

"I've had dates and sex since Neal," Emma said grouchily, hating that the conversations about her dating life always turned back to a brief fling with Neal Cassidy. She would rather he not be the man by which all her relationships were judged.

"If you hadn't, I'd be worried," Ruby chimed in. "More worried than I am now."

Mary Margaret was not like Ruby in the way she dressed. She was wearing a simple a-line dress with a soft cardigan over it. Her hair was short but curled at the edges giving a very feminine vibe to her. She wore sensible heels rather than stilettos and her skirts always hit at the knee or lower. "Maybe we could set you up with someone," she added, looking at Ruby hopefully. "I can't think of anyone, but maybe Ruby knows…"

"No," Emma said firmly. "I'm not getting set up by my friends."

"Please," Ruby said examining her freshly painted nails that changed color from red to black and back again. "I know someone. He's not even someone I've slept with. His name is Walsh. He's a furniture buyer or designer or something. I don't know. It has to do with furniture."

"Oooohhhh!" Mary Margaret squealed, feigning excitement over the prospect. She had not actually looked at another man since David had chased her down after she accidentally picked up Katherine's purse thinking it was her own. "That sounds like Aiden on Sex and the City." She gave Emma a hopeful look. "You liked him."

Emma rolled her eyes. "I don't do blind dates."

"He's harmless," Ruby insisted. "He's a workaholic, but you know that's a good thing. It means he won't be clingy. Go out with him once and we'll see where it goes. It could be fun? Let me set it up. He's going to be in town Friday. I'll call him."

"No," Emma said, wrinkling her nose. "I have a date Friday anyway." It was 24 hours away and she had no date, but Emma was not going to let them think she was actually considering a date with some guy Ruby hadn't even found attractive enough to sleep with yet. Something was obviously wrong with him.

"You?" Ruby said as though it was the most absurd thing she had ever heard. "You have a date? With who?"

"Whom," Mary Margaret corrected. "But that's beside the point. You have a date, Emma? You never go out."

"I'm not a wall flower," Emma protested, her blonde braid falling to her back. "And he's just a guy. Nothing special. He's meeting me for a drink. That's all."

"Where?" Ruby asked suspiciously. "Where is this mystery man taking you for a drink?"

Emma bit down on the inside of her cheek, hating the feel of the lie on her tongue. "What? I'm not telling you. You'll just show up to see who this guy is and try to embarrass me. A girl can keep some things private."

***AAA***

Emma knew she was screwed when the ladies left, having talked through Mary Margaret's problems, Ruby's desire for a vacation to meet more men, and Emma's mystery date. She made up a few details such as that he was tall, dark haired, and charming. If they were suspicious of her lack of details, they should have expected it. Emma was not known for her openness. She preferred keeping people, including her friends at arm's length. It took her two years before she even told Ruby her middle name.

Retying the end of her braid, Emma glanced at the clock and wondered if she would ever get used to the quietness of living alone. Sure there were the noises of her upstairs neighbors, the occasional car door slamming and the muffled conversations of other residents. But none of them were directed at her. None of them affected her life in any way. There was no one to bother her with incidental things, but by the same token there was no one to share things with either. She was alone.

She knew that Ruby had a point. Her dating life was absolutely on the low end of the spectrum. She'd had a date or two, usually drinks and excuse before it turned into dinner. One night stands were preferable to the alternative. She couldn't remember the last time she'd talked with a guy late into the night or received a text that made her smile. Butterflies in her stomach were something she missed.

Maybe she would good out on Friday, she thought. A drink at the Rabbit Hole would be a good way to wind down after a hard week of work. Emma had been working at the Sheriff's Department since moving to Storybrooke. It had been David who had offered the job as a deputy, having known her since her early teen years when his mother had taken her in. She had called him after graduation and several failed interviews, begging him to consider her for a position. He had relented, though reluctantly at first. Still, she had proven herself. She was an excellent interrogator and even more skilled with her investigative skills. He'd been giving her more assignments lately and even taken her off several of the more menial tasks like traffic detail.

So maybe drink would be good. She could have one and that way it wouldn't be a complete lie when she told her friends that she had met someone for drinks. She'd have one. Maybe she'd even say hello to a guy – someone besides Jefferson who owned the place. That would assuage her guilty conscience.

***AAA***

The Rabbit Hole was not exactly on Zagat's list of the finest establishments. It wasn't even a tourist spot, but the drinks were strong and cold and the music loud. That was the foundation of any good bar. The bass of the music thrumming through the dimly lit space so loudly and powerfully that Emma could not even hear her own heels on the wooden slats of the floor. She'd been there plenty of times, as the guys at the station loved the cheap beer and the chance to out brag each other about their manliness. She could drink most of them under the table, but that was not exactly a point of pride for her.

Slipping out of her jacket and taking a seat on one of the cracked but sturdy barstools, Emma signaled to the bartender and ordered a beer. "Whatever you have on tap," she said waving off the long explanations of taste and country of origin. She didn't care. It was a beer and that was enough for the time being.

She curled her hands around it and tried to concentrate on the silent television over the collection of bottles, ignoring the men next to her who were clearly sopping up the liquid courage to hit on her. She was good at reading that, but even a blind woman could with the way they were acting. The leering glances and louder than appropriate jokes that bordered on obscene. It was hardly a way to a woman's heart, but it was typical of that kind of place. She was immune to it by now.

"Is the tap here as weak as they say, love?" a heavily accented voice said from the other side of her. She had been so busy ignoring the two frat boys that she hadn't seen the man slip onto the stool next to her. Turning slowly, she looked at him, not recognizing the dark hair or stunning blue eyes that shone back at her with something between curiosity and amusement.

"I've had better," she said, her words a bit labored as she tried to regain her footing. "Do you have a favorite?"

He smiled, a grin that seemed to grow across his chiseled features. "Are you asking me to buy you a drink?"

"Suggest one, not buy one," she answered. "I don't go around asking for men to buy me drinks." That was the truth, as she was not the type to swoon over the free gift of cheap beer or overly sweet cocktails.

"Aye," he said, wrenching his gaze from her to the plethora of bottles behind the long wooden bar. He pointed to one, a shrug coming up his shoulders as he did. "I think you might like that one, but I don't really know you, lass."

She took another sip from the plastic mug, licking the remnants off her lips. "I could ask why you think that," she said, "but I'm not sure I'm that interested in the answer."

He grinned again, holding his bottle out as if expecting her to clink it with her own mug in a toast. "I'm not sure I really have an answer that would amuse or interest you."

Her pinched laughter rang out as she held her hand out in greeting. "I'm Emma," she said.

"Killian," he responded. "I suppose I could ask that question everyone hates about how often you come here or if you're meeting anyone. But I have little doubt that you will shoot down my attempts. Perhaps I should retreat now while I am still in good graces?"

"Perhaps," she said, her own smirk shining. There was little doubt the man was good looking. She might even have an attraction to him, but he was probably just as much of a jerk as the rest of the men in the bar that night. He was probably a jerk. The accent tended to hide things like that, or at least distract you from them.

"Can I ask what you're doing here?" he pursued, looking directly at her rather than at the drink like she had been attempting to do. "That's a harmless question, right?"

She smiled at his approach, definitely more subtle than she was used to in a bar. "Avoiding my friends, actually. Or at least avoiding a bad blind date they wanted to set me up on." She rolled her eyes to show what she thought of bad dates and the like. He probably had never had a bad date or friends who seemed to monitor his sex life. "My friends kind of suck."

He sipped on his drink, pausing to consider that for a moment. "I'd wager they care a great deal about you to want to see you happy," he said, interpreting her words carefully in his head. "Though you're probably quite perceptive and can tell that this broke they want to set you up with is not your type. I doubt you're the type to want to waste time on someone who you don't fancy."

She gave a silent laugh and looked back at the oversized screen. "I guess you think you're pretty perceptive too?" He was handsome, but most men that good looking were trouble. They knew of their looks and felt more entitled somehow. She weakly turned her body away from his, hoping he would take the hint.

"I've been told that, love," he said, leaning a little closer. "In addition to the line that I'm devilishly handsome." If he was turned off by her laughter at his boasting, his smile did not show it. He chuckled along with her.

"So, Killian?" She hoped she was remembering his name, something she normally struggled to do. "What is that you do other than offer advice on drinks in a bar?"

"My occupation is not that remarkable," he said, sighing in a bit of relief. Maybe he was expecting her to throw the dish of free peanuts at his head. "I work in the fishing industry."

She eyed him carefully, taking in the plaid shirt and the softly worn jeans that were faded and beginning to fray at the edges. "A fisherman? Like raincoat and hat?"

His chuckle was such an easy sound as he lowered his eyes a bit, almost embarrassed as he scratched behind one ear. "No, I'm in the boat business. I sell boats and parts to the fisherman. It's my vocation rather than a passion, but we can't have it all."

"I see," she said, tipping her beer for a last swallow. "And what would be your passion?" She cringed inwardly as she said it. She didn't want to have this conversation, but for some reason she seemed determined to continue it. What was wrong with her?

"I've always had a penchant for sailing," he said, rolling his shoulders back as though he needed to reinforce himself to say the words to her. "It's a love I've had since I was a child. So selling boats allows me to delve a bit into that. What about you? What makes Emma light up?"

"You assume that something or someone does make me light up," she said, raising an eyebrow when he silently motioned for the bartender to bring them another round. "I don't know if I've found that yet." The honesty of the statement shocked her, causing her to laugh it off. "I work for the sheriff," she added hastily. "I guess I've always had an interest in that."

"Quite admirable," he said, offering her another smile. "And these friends of yours don't think your career is enough?"

"They…" She was about to admit they worried about her, wanted her to have more than a badge and gun. However, the words flew out of her head as she caught sight of the dark haired woman she had come to consider one of her best friends. Ruby stood there at one of the pool tables, her smile bright white against her even brighter red lipstick. She was the center of attention, as was usually the case. However, her attention was not focused on the men who were talking to her. Instead, she was unsuccessfully trying to steal stealthy glances at Emma. "Shit!"

Killian's amusement grew as he watched the woman in front of him blush and grow more flustered. "Is there a problem, lass?"

"One of those so called friends is over at the pool table right now," Emma said, turning on the stool so that her gaze did not trail in that direction. He was less obvious, leaning to catch a glimpse.

"Ruby?"

She should have known. A handsome man who was single would have to know Ruby Lucas. Everyone did. "You know her," she said, hoping that she did not sound accusatory in her statement.

"Aye," he admitted, a faint smile playing at his mouth. "By reputation only, mind you. I have never…"

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow. He was clearly trying to make her understand that he was not a playboy. That was probably a red flag, but his sincerity threw her a bit. Most men were proud to say they had had the pleasure with Ruby. Here was a man throwing it out there that he was not among that list of admirers. "She's not your type?" she asked. She knew he was Ruby's type, but Ruby was freer with that information than most people. She had no qualms about love and sex. It was something that Emma secretly admired, as she had never quite mastered the art of separating the two. She'd tried, but something always felt off.

His head tilted as though he had never really considered Ruby an option. "We all like who we like, Emma," he said, her name sounding better in his accent than it normally did. "So she is the one who wanted you to go on this blind date?"

Emma nodded, not wanting to say anything at that moment. She closed her eyes momentarily and wondered how to get out of the situation. Ruby clearly saw her and saw that…wait…Emma thought. Ruby saw her talking to a nice looking guy and having a drink. Isn't that what she said she was going to do? So what if she had just met him? He would fit the bill for a few more minutes. "Want to help me out?" she asked, holding her head a little closer to his.

 _ **Thoughts?**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**WOW! I've been blown away by the response to the first chapter. I'm excited about this fic and can't wait for you to read more. Here's the next chapter. Please know that I don't want to keep you guys waiting, but I've got quite a few things on my plate over the next week. In addition to winding down on my maternity leave, starting a new job in two weeks, my husband, kids, and I are moving about 100 miles away next week. So I am writing this amongst the boxes. I can't promise frequent updates, but I hope to get a schedule going once things get settled a bit.**_

The Rabbit Hole was crowded, but that was to be expected on a Friday evening where most establishments closed at 7 and everything was family oriented. Taking a deep breath, Emma reached for Killian's hand and threaded her fingers between his, smiling slightly at the intimacy of holding his hand in public. She was not much for that kind of thing, even the one time she had been in a relationship. Maybe it is too much, she thought as she wove through the crowd toward the two pool tables in the back. Ruby might call her out on the out of character behavior, knowing that she was not the type.

"Emma!" the dark haired woman said, sounding fake in her surprise. "I didn't realize you'd be here."

The blonde smiled sweetly, nodding at the two admirers flanking Ruby. "Well there aren't too many places to grab a drink," she said, feeling the odd squeeze from Killian that felt slightly comforting as they stood so clearly on display. "It was here or Granny's."

She nodded slowly, pretending that she hadn't had the same conversation with herself when she decided to come out and find out about this mystery guy. Whatever shame she felt over ruining her friend's date passed quickly as she flashed a smile at the quiet Killian. Pitching forward, she smiled at him in her appraisal that let her eyes linger along his body. "Ruby Lucas," she said brightly. "And you are…"

"Killian Jones," he said, sticking his free hand out to her. "A friend of Emma's I presume?"

Ruby's eyes flashed over to Emma with obvious approval for a guy with an accent. It was not something easily found in Storybrooke unless you counted Robin, Will, or Marco. "One of her besties," Ruby declared, wrinkling her nose as if the two of them had slumber parties or shared matching tattoos. "I didn't mean to intrude on your date?" The word hung there, a challenge of sorts.

"No bother, lass," Killian said smiling back just as brightly. "Emma and I are getting to know each other. What better way than meeting her 'bestie?'"

Emma laughed at his poor imitation of an American accent. "We'll let you get back to your game," Emma said, trying not to gasp as Killian stepped closer to let one of the waitresses pass, his body flush against hers and their entwined hands now on her hip. He didn't move back into his former spot. "Just wanted to say hi."

"Why don't you stay?" she said, her voice bordering on sickeningly sweet. "I'd love to get to know Killian a little. We're about to rack 'em up. Join us?" She flashed her flirtiest smile at Killian and motioned to one of the guys – Victor something or other. "We can play against each other."

"We kind of…" Emma began, her palms sweating with the idea that she was going to have to actually play this off. She wanted to just parade the cute guy in front of Ruby, leave with him, say goodbye in the parking lot and that would be that. Ruby would let her dirty mind fill in the blanks.

"We'd love to, but I must insist on having Emma on my team," he said, matching Ruby's smile with one of her own. "It wouldn't seem quite right for me to compete against her since we are on a date." He winked at Emma conspiratorially, as though they had known each other long enough to have flirty secrets and inside jokes.

"Sure," Ruby said, lighting up that her invitation was being accepted. "I'll play with…" She paused and looked at the man on her left. Emma was reminded that she had threatened to get the girl name tags for all her men. "Victor. We'll be a team."

Emma felt ill as Ruby and Killian began to banter back and forth about American versus British rules for pool. He seemed to be turning on the charm, not exactly flirting, but more like trying to impress her. No, it definitely wasn't flirting. Flirting was more like what Killian was doing with Emma. There were saucy looks, smiles that lit up the room, and his lilting voice calling her love or once he found out her last name, Swan. She couldn't really put the brakes on the situation without Ruby realizing that this was a complete stranger and hardly an acceptable dating partner.

"You're quite talented," he said to Emma as Ruby appraised her next shot, eyeing each angle carefully. Emma jumped at the sound of his voice or maybe it was the close proximity to her ear with his breath warm and his accent melodic. "Did you learn to play from some criminal you took down?"

Emma rolled her eyes at his obvious attempt to learn more about her. Ruby had already dominated much of the conversation, even telling him more than a few tidbits about Emma. She had been questioning where on earth they had met since she knew Emma never went out anywhere without her friends. "Work," Emma had responded, the lie coming easily. "I was answering a call about a disturbance down at the docks and Killian was there to sell a boat."

Ruby pursed her painted lips together at that answer, trying to find the fault in it. "Was he the one making the disturbance?" she asked, probably picturing Emma meeting him while putting him in handcuffs.

"I'm a law abiding citizen of this town," Killian said, nudging Emma to remind her of her own turn to shoot. "Emma was just so enticing that I had to know more about her. Simply brilliant lass, and such a great conversationalist. I couldn't resist the urge to contact her at the first opportunity to see if she might have a drink with me."

"And when was this?" Ruby asked, ignoring the fact that Emma had never been described in such a way. Beautiful, yes. Guarded, most definitely. But brilliant and a conversationalist? Never.

"A few days ago," Emma answered, smiling as she sunk the ball into the pocket she had called out. "He was persistent." She tried to throw him her own flirtatious look, but she worried it came off as more sour than sweet.

"Aye, that I was," Killian answered, giving her a congratulatory side hug. "I just knew I had to see her again. I couldn't keep her off my mind."

Victor cleared his throat, obviously not pleased that Ruby was paying more attention to her friend and Killian than him. "I should be getting back to the hospital. Friday nights are busy." His arm wound around Ruby's waist as he pulled her back into his orbit and focus. "Maybe we can continue this another time?"

The dark haired woman looked a bit confused, her eyes scanning his face as though she was just remembering that he was even there. "Hospital?" she half asked, turning her gaze back to Emma who offered no help for the riddle. "Oh you're a doctor, right. Well, have a good shift or whatever. Talk to you soon." She pulled back, gave him a little wave, and rounded the table toward Killian and Emma. "Looks like I'm partnerless."

"Good timing," Emma muttered, pointing to the chalkboard where Ruby's team score was nothing to brag about. "Good thing you didn't play for cash." Seeing her escape within range, she felt herself relax a bit.

"Yes, well, I don't want to be a third wheel," Ruby said, moving the pool cue from hand to hand. "Where are you guys headed?"

Emma wanted to scream out to her friend to shut up, as this fake date had lasted long enough already. She knew more about Killian Jones than her one night stands put together. He was in sales, held a degree in environmental studies with an ocean specialization. He loved Mexican and Italian foods. And his free time was spent on his boat or watching soccer. She even knew that he had a Labrador named Smee because he had fallen in love with the stories of Peter Pan, Captain Hook and Neverland. She felt like she was only lacking his blood type, but he'd probably have given that to her too if she asked.

"I hadn't asked yet, as I didn't want to push my luck." His smile matched his words, seeming less confident as he shifted his weight a bit. "I was hoping you would maybe join me for dinner. I know that it is customary to say drinks first and see how it goes, but I'm hopeful you've been having a good time, love?" He took a step in her direction, trying to catch her eye as she shifted her gaze between him and Ruby.

"I'd say she is," Ruby enthused, leaning against the table in her black skirt and sheer black top over a red tank that she had cut to hit above her waist. "Emma rarely spends this much time with a guy she just met. It's pretty impressive that you have her this interested."

All the air in Emma's body exited through her nose, pushing out in a rush. "I was planning on calling it an early night," she said to no one in particular. "Maybe…"

"I was thinking something light," he continued as if he wasn't hearing her protests and excuses. "We could get take out if you would prefer. Perhaps eat down at the docks."

She blinked back at him, realizing he was trying to make it sound like something he had planned. He was taking her back to the place where they had met. Was it romantic since the story was that she met him while trying to arrest someone else? She could hear the gasp from Ruby, who was clearly impressed by the guy's thoughtfulness and sweetness.

"Maybe some other…"

"I'll call Granny," Ruby interrupted, playfully tapping Emma on the shoulder. "She'll make up a picnic basket for you. You know she'll love to do it." Ruby wasn't lying. The old woman was as gruff and cantankerous as they came, but she loved being part of a romantic story. That it was a friend of Ruby's made it all the better. Ruby hid herself in the alcove by the restrooms to call her grandmother, grinning at Emma the entire time.

"I'm sorry," Emma blurted out once they were out of Ruby's earshot. "I just wanted you to say hi and pretend like we hadn't just met." Her face became pink as she watched her friend animatedly talking. "If you want, I'll buy the dinner and you can take it home. You know? Leftovers can be good."

He glanced toward Emma's friend and then back at Emma, his eyes skimming over her flushed cheeks and the nervous way she was fisting her hands inside the sleeves of the asymmetrical sweater she was wearing. "Are you turning me down for dinner, love? I thought I earned at least that with our little ruse."

She whipped her head around to look at him, her eyes narrowing with judgment. "Are you serious?" she asked. "I'm just a girl you suggested a drink to in a bar. You want to have dinner?"

"Sure," he said nonchalantly, as if it did not really matter to him. "I talked to you because I wanted to get to know you. And so far I haven't been disappointed. So I'm willing to take the risk. Dinner?" He held out his hand toward her, reaching for one of her closed fists. She looked at him as if he might have a weapon concealed in it.

"Why don't I just give you my number? We can see how it goes?"

He chuckled. "Because, love, I have no doubt that you'll ignore my texts and calls and hope that I'll give up. This way at least we can actually call it a date. You won't have lied to your friends?" His dimples flashed in a hopeful smile as she worried over her bottom lip. "I'm not good at rejection so be gentle, please?"

"A picnic dinner at the docks?" she said more to herself, shaking her head at the absurdity. "I guess. Just this once though. I'm not doing this again." She glanced down at his hand now grazing hers. "At least not without a proper invitation."

"Of course, milady," he teased back. "We can hammer out the specifics of this relationship over the meal." She looked panicked at that word, which he could not help noticing. "It's fine, Emma. It's just dinner."

***AAA***

Emma threw her earrings into the silver dish on her bedside table and slid out of her shoes as she sank onto the bed. Killian had been right. It was just a dinner. A simple, but over abundant dinner meal, with a guy she barely knew had not really been part of her plans. Stranger was a perfect word to describe Killian Jones, she decided. He was nice enough and certainly nice to look at, but that was just the surface. The man oozed with sexuality and a quirkiness that she couldn't quite fathom.

Their walk from Granny's to the docks had been laced with talk of movies and musical genres. He had been friendly and a little flirty, but there were no blatant attempts at anything more than just a shared meal. He kept the conversations light and backed off at any sign that she might have an issue with what they were discussing.

Even when the last bite of dessert was eaten and the meal was obviously over, he had not even attempted to invite himself back to her apartment when they walked back to their parked cars. Instead he had gently lifted her phone out of her hand and typed in his number. "Just in case you need another excuse to avoid a blind date," he had told her. She could have deleted it, ignored his invitation and moved on with her life. He probably expected that out of her. But for some reason she hadn't yet. There on her phone was his number in her contacts.

Still fully clothed and lying on her bed, Emma stared at the ceiling. Her mind was racing with replays of the evening. She'd thought she was just going to get a drink, a simple diversion from her usual day and a way to perpetuate the lie she had told her friends. He'd been someone to talk to, someone to make her ignore the way that the drinks sat in her stomach and did not fill the ache.

Her phone buzzed and startled her.

 **Ruby: Hope I'm not interrupting. Or maybe I hope I am. Good job. He's a hottie.**

Emma stared at the words from her friend, a bit proud that she had so easily manipulated the woman into thinking she had been on a date. Like Emma, Ruby was certain she could detect a manipulation a mile away. However, she had seemed none the wiser about the status of Emma's dating life. That had been a little too easy. So while she still felt proud, she also had a little guilt over the lies.

Emma held her phone up and stared at the words from her friend, groaning as she realized she had not answered. That was probably just adding to Ruby's imagination and assumptions about what exactly was occurring. She certainly did not want to think about this guy in her bed. So with her thumbs flying across the screen, Emma typed out a response to her friend.

 **Emma: Glad you approve.**

Hitting the send button sent her back to her list of contacts and there front and center was Killian's name. It was a short list. Just a few friends and one or two take out places that she wanted to keep at the ready were on the list. Tapping his name, she stared at his phone number for a moment, tracing the digits with her mind. It was too late for a phone call. He had probably already gone to bed, as few suffered from insomnia like she did. Or maybe he had gone back to the Rabbit Hole to try to find someone who would have gone back to his place with him. That was why he was there, wasn't it? Why else did men go to bars? He had probably determined that she was too neurotic or demented for him. He wanted someone simple.

So why couldn't she just delete his number and ignore him? Sighing, she stared harder at the number as if it might offer the answer with numerology. Maybe there was some mystic answer to her question. There wasn't.

 **Emma: Thanks again for being my "date."**

She tapped the send button before she could really consider the consequences of it. So what if it wasn't the best line ever? It was simple and to the point. She didn't expect an answer back. That wasn't the point, she told herself. She was just being polite. He had foregone his plans for the evening just to play a part in her scheme. He deserved thanks. Thinking of all the reasons he would not respond, Emma felt a small jolt as her phone lit up again with his response.

 **Killian: Anytime. Perhaps you would be agreeable to another?**

He could not see her smile as she rolled her eyes at his too quick response that she was not trying to read anything into. Instead she typed a vague we'll see.

 **Killian: We could try to fool more of your friends. Or some of mine? We could pull the wool over the entire town's eyes if you like.**

 **Emma: Ruby's a gossip. I'm sure everyone will have heard about our "date" by morning.**

 **Killian: Then now I feel guilty. You should let me take you out to assuage that awkward feeling. That way it isn't a total lie.**

 **Emma: I'd say our dinner together was as close to dating as I do these days.**

She blinked at her words, realizing again that he seemed to pull out honesty in her that was otherwise uncomfortable. She was not sure how she felt about that, given that she liked the masks she wore and the way that people never truly knew the real her.

 **Killian: It was quite lovely. Or perhaps it was the company that was lovely?**

 **Emma: Calling yourself lovely?**

 **Killian: I was speaking of you, love. But I was a little hopeful you might have liked my company as well.**

***AAA***

Emma threw the envelope on the desk of one of the other deputies and sneered. "Are you serious?" she asked. "You put in for a transfer?"

Graham, who had been with the department longer than the rest of the deputies, scratched his fingers at his beard and sighed. "I just don't feel like I'm doing anything here," he admitted. "It's the same old thing all the time. David, you, and the guys are nice enough, but does it really take four of us to track down Pongo when Archie loses him? That has been our most exciting case in months. I didn't go through the academy and all this training to be a night watchman for the pawn shop. I wanted to…"

"Help people," Emma finished, flopping into the seat across from him. Graham was probably one of the quieter men in the department. Robin was loud and playful, bordering on obnoxious. David was fatherly and concerned about everyone and everything. John was always laughing, never taking anything seriously. Graham did his job and moved on to the next task. It wasn't that big of a leap for him.

"Well, yeah," he answered. Graham's accent was a soothing and melodic treat. Where Robin's was more of a charming thing. He could get any woman to see his way of thinking by just a tinge of a word, Graham seemed not to notice the effect he had on people. "I'm not doing that here."

The creases in Emma's forehead deepened as she stared at the way Graham held the envelope in his hand and flipped it from side to side. "Well," she said, "open the damn thing. See what you got."

He grinned a bit as he tugged at the sealed edges, no doubt imagining better assignments and locations. Unfolding the sheets of paper. "Transfer pending an opening in another department," he said flatly, throwing down the page. "Guess that settles it."

Emma looked sympathetic as she lifted put the page and read it herself. "Something will open up. Something always does."

***AAA***

When the girls met for lunch that Saturday, Emma was happy to see a much calmer Mary Margaret than she had on Thursday night. The friendly and optimistic teacher was back with her approachable demeanor and bright outlook. She was recounting her favorite recipe to Emma, explaining than even an idiot could make these muffins that only required three ingredients. Emma was doubtful but pretended to take note of the instructions.

"We're all young and vibrant women in our 20s," Ruby complained as she sat down at one of the patio tables at Granny's with her sunglasses covering her face as though someone wouldn't actually recognize her. "Why are we eating here and talking about recipes. We're not 80."

Emma laughed, as this lunch was a standing appointment between the women since high school. They always recapped the week and made plans for the next. When Emma took a job at the sheriff's station, the two had promised to schedule the lunches around her work. So far they always had.

"My week hasn't been that exciting," Mary Margaret confessed. "Other than the Katherine and David thing, I'm kind of in a rut." She toyed with her napkin and ignored the feigned shock from Ruby.

"You should get advice from Emma," Ruby said, unfolding her own napkin in her lap as though they were eating somewhere much more upscale than the diner. "I'm actually impressed. If it wasn't for the fact that she carries a gun, cusses like a sailor, and can body slam any of us, I'd think she was considering becoming a nun. But last night our little nun had a date with the hottest guy I've seen in Storybrooke in a while."

"I'd look horrible in the habit," Emma said, taking a sip of her soda. "You also forget that I drink like a fish."

Mary Margaret scooted her chair a little closer to Emma, whether because of the sun in her eyes or to make sure she missed none of the details. "You met him?" she asked Ruby, as though she had not been privy to the other woman's plans to spy.

"Met and had the pleasure of talking to before they snuck off for a quiet dinner by themselves. I'm talking hot, Mary Margaret. The kind of man who would make your hair curl." Ruby smiled proudly as Emma looked distressed.

"He's pretty cute," Emma said, wrinkling her nose as both women stared at her for some sort of comment. "Really cute." She felt like a fool as both of her friends smiled like loons and looked at each other knowingly. "Would you two quit it?"

Mary Margaret slumped back against the iron chair, folding her arms over her chest. "Will you tell me about him, Ruby? I need details that are more interesting than Emma can provide. But leave out the sex stuff, okay?"

"I didn't have sex with him," Ruby said just as primly. "But did Emma?"

Emma fixated on the menu though she almost always ordered the same thing. She was nothing if not predictable and dependable. "We had dinner. We walked back to our cars. It was the end of the date. Nobody went to bed with anyone."

Ruby proceeded to fill Mary Margaret in on some of the details like what he was wearing and that he took her for a late night dinner in the spot where they met. That was the sort of stuff the teacher ate up with a spoon. Ruby even brandished her phone where she had taken a few photos of him covertly. Mary Margaret gushed over the photos, proclaiming him a dream come true for their friend.

"I just wonder," Mary Margaret said stealing a look at the door to see if their food was coming. "He seems perfect. I haven't met him, but from what Ruby says and the fact that you yourself have smiled while talking about him, he's sound perfect." She giggled. "But I'm waiting on the but here. What's wrong with him? You always find something wrong with people."

"I do not," Emma said defensively, hoping that the arrival of their food would distract her friends. "I just have high standards."

"Ruby, what's wrong with him?" Mary Margaret said. "He's dumb right? A complete idiot?"

"No, he's actually very smart," Emma said softly, unbelieving that she was participating in this witch hunt for flaws.

"Body odor?" the teacher suggested. "Smells like peppers and garlic?"

"I can answer that," Ruby said with a wry smile. "He smelled like sandalwood and leather. Heavenly." She tapped the side of the glass as she thought. "I've got it. He's married, right? Wife, kids, dog, and he just wants you on the side?"

"He's single," Emma said automatically. "There's nothing wrong with him. He's just not my type."

Mary Margaret's jaw dropped to protest, but Ruby spoke first. "Oh totally not your type," she said, waving away the idea as crazy. "I can't believe I would think such a thing. He's way too perfect for you."

***AAA***

When Emma returned from lunch David was in his office, his relaxed stance indicating that he was not in the middle of a case. Emma hung her leather jacket on the coat rack and paused just outside the glass door to his space. She knocked tentatively. "Can we talk?" she asked when he spun in his chair to face her.

"Sure," he said, motioning toward the empty chair on the side of his desk. "Take a seat."

Emma sat toward the edge of the chair, placing her hands on her knees and leaning forward. "I wanted to know if you're going to go to Regina about the budget request," she said. Regina Mills was the town's mayor. While the city council actually voted on the budget, Regina was known to rule that council with an iron fist.

"You're wanting that new equipment," he said with a sigh. "I can request it, but you know the council doesn't think it's needed. We have been getting by all this time going into Portland for those things."

"And it takes a full 48 hours minimum for results. If we had our own, we could speed that along." She was not one to beg and plead. Her tactics were usually based on logic and reason.

"We haven't had a need for it in over a year," David protested lightly. "I don't think that argument of yours is going to fly. We're a nice quiet town. Let's not pretend we're one of the big boys."

Emma's boot covered foot tapped an erratic pattern on the floor. "It might help keep some of our better officers here," she said pointedly. "We could quit playing cops and actually be a real law enforcement department instead of being like Mayberry."

He chuckled. "So this is about Graham," he said knowingly. "I figured that would piss you off."

She sighed as he explained that he just couldn't give deputies the cases or pay of the bigger towns. It was a matter of money and resources, he told her. There was a limit and they had hit it.

"Is that what you told Mary Margaret?" she asked. "Is that why you won't stand up to your father?"

He looked wary, his hands raking over his face and the heels of his palms digging into his eyes. "My father has always liked Katherine. He invited her without consulting me. It would be awkward for Mary Margaret. I thought it best if I just played along and made it up to her with a weekend trip of our own."

Emma rolled her eyes and let out the breath she was holding. "You are a coward when it comes to your father. Your mother would have said something to him."

She knew she was hitting him where it hurt. His mother had died a year earlier, an unexpected complication from surgery stealing her from her family. David rarely spoke of it or her. She could tell by his expression that he wasn't happy with her for bringing it up now.

"I'll make it up to her," he repeated. "What about you? Dad said you didn't call his secretary back about joining us."

She fidgeted in her chair a bit. "I wasn't invited. A call from your father's secretary isn't an invitation." She paused. "I wouldn't want to go."

There was some levity in David's eyes as she said that. "Really?" he asked. "Got a hot date?"

She pushed herself off the chair and marched out of his office, muttering slanderous things about Ruby as she left.

***AAA***

Mary Margaret called Emma as the blonde drove the few blocks from the station home, asking if David had already left for the evening and if Emma had any plans. "I made too much food," she said, as was code for she didn't want her friend eating peanut butter out of a jar with a spoon. "You're welcome to join us."

Emma fidgeted, looking both ways before turning her Volkswagen Bug onto another street. "I sort of have plans already," she said sheepishly, "but thanks for the invite."

"Leftovers it is then," the teacher said cheerily. "Wait? You have plans? Or you have PLANS?"

Emma sighed, having not told her friends that she had agreed to see Killian again that night. He'd been sweetly insistent and texted her several times to ask if she would join him. Her no's turned into I don't know's and then to maybe's and finally to and okay. It was as close as Emma came to gushing. "Killian asked me to dinner."

"Killian!" Mary Margaret said enthusiastically. She had no such rules about not gushing. "Oh my God." Are you serious? Dinner with him twice in one weekend? And it's Saturday! That's big, Emma. Really, really, big."

"It's dinner," Emma said with a small but nervous laugh. "It's just a chance for me to find out what's wrong with him."

"You do know that you're bound to find something wrong with him if you keep searching?" the teacher warned, the sounds of pans clanging in the background. "Emma, please, honey, don't screw this up. He's a nice guy. He's not Neal."

"I don't compare every guy to Neal," Emma reminded her. "I'm not like that. I can tell the difference." She pulled into her parking spot outside her building. There sat Killian in his jeep, looking up at her apartment building with apprehension evident on his face. "I have to go. Bye."

She climbed out of the ancient but reliable car and tapped on his window. "You're early," she said accusingly. "I just got off work."

"Sorry," he said, his hand automatically reaching to that spot behind his ear that she was starting to notice as a nervous tic. "I was just so shocked you said yes. Then I wanted to make sure I was ready and well…I'm 30 minutes early. I guess you must think poorly of me now."

She laughed, which seemed to brighten his mood. "I'm actually impressed that you are willing to admit to being a dork," she said. "Not many guys would confess to that."

"I'm not confessing to that title," he said, relaxing a little at her obvious teasing. "I merely confessed to being overly punctual." He grinned. "And prepared." There on the seat next to him was an array of flowers. She wasn't even sure if any guy had ever given her flowers before except that old man who came in the station sometimes and gave her one for being a pretty little thing.

"Wow," she said, shaking her head. "You really are a dork. A nice one, but a dork. Come on. You can wait upstairs while I get ready. I'm not going to dinner in this." She waved her hands over the jeans and button down she wore as part of her uniform – she had refused the wear the polyester monstrosity that David had handed her on the first day.

"You're inviting me into your private lair?" he asked, sliding out from behind the steering wheel with his hand clutching the flowers. "I'm not sure that I'm ready for that, love."

"You," she said, pointing at him with flair, "are going to sit on the couch and maybe have a soda while I change. There is no funny business going on." She gives him one more look before marching straight into the building and up the stairs, trusting that he is following her.

 ** _I'm addicted to your feedback._**


	3. Chapter 3

**_I'm so loving the feedback and hearing how much you are enjoying this story. One guest reviewer was not happy about the way I have written David. While I'm sure your mind is made up, I have reasons for writing him the way I am. I want the characters to grow in this story. So I have placed a bit of an obstacle for him and Mary Margaret – an overbearing father._**

 ** _I'm glad I was able to get another chapter out today. I'm just as excited as some of you are to see where this story goes as I am writing it with just a vague idea in mind. Thanks for reading!_**

Just as Emma had instructed, Killian sat on the couch and looked at the flowers she had put in a plastic pitcher with water. He hadn't even thought about a vase, as that seemed like a mundane item to own. Didn't everyone own a vase? He guessed not, since Emma had not even seemed to think it necessary.

"I like your apartment," he called out to her, shaking his head at what a lame comment that was to make. He felt like he should compliment something about her. Since she was behind a closed door, he wasn't really teeming with material. The apartment was cozy, he thought. She had an overly large leather sofa and an upholstered chair that he was quite certain was probably from some thrift store. One of those plywood bookcases stood over in the corner and there was a television sitting on top of a trunk. The kitchen, from what he could tell was small but serviceable, and if she was to be believed, rarely used. There were a few framed photos of her with Ruby and a brunette woman he thought he recognized. Other pictures showed her with an older woman and the sheriff, both of them younger than they were now. A map of the United States hung on the wall with push pins for certain cities. He wasn't sure why. It wasn't cluttered or messy, but she wasn't a neat freak either, he determined. There were a few books here and there and the mail sat half open on a folding table that had four chairs around it.

"I'll be just a minute," she called out, her voice muffled by something that he wasn't even sure he wanted to know about.

He hated that she knew he was nervous, something that he shouldn't be at 29 years of age. He'd been on dates before, plenty of them. He'd even lived with a woman briefly a few years before, but he couldn't silence the horse hoof like rate his heart was beating. He'd never approached that many women in a bar. For one, most of them traveled in packs. Secondly, most women he had met that way were looking for either a one night stand or marriage. There was no in between. So he wasn't really sure what it was that had drawn him to Emma other than the way she ignored the obvious grifters and seemed to be content to drink a cheap tap beer and watch a muted television.

"Sorry about that," Emma said as she entered the room. She had taken his suggestion that he was taking her to just a little hole in the wall place seriously. Wearing a gauzy and deep blue sleeveless dress with a matching cardigan, she looked soft and feminine. Her blonde hair fell over one shoulder in loose waves that made him wonder if her hair was naturally curly or if she had put forth some effort there. She was several inches shorter than him and the ballet flats on her feet did not make up the difference. "I just thought this would be comfortable." Her hands fisted around the cuffs of her cardigan, a nervous habit of hers. He couldn't help but find her own awkwardness endearing as she shifted her weight.

"You look stunning," he managed to say, cumbersomely getting up off the hand me down sofa with some effort. "Perfect for this place."

Her head cocked to one side. "It would help if you told me where we were going," she said with a laugh. "I thought about wearing a different outfit, but I wasn't sure how messy it would be. I'm not exactly the most coordinated when it comes to food in my mouth." Again, she let him in on one of her secrets. She had a stack of shirts and pants that were beyond her laundry capabilities with stains that reminded her of abstract art.

"Sounds like you might be a bit dangerous in that regard," he teased. "I will have to watch myself if I'm in the line of fire."

"I will do my best to not start a food fight," she returned. "I have a good aim."

Considering himself warned, he led her back to the jeep that he owned and drove her past every place she must have assumed they would stop. While he was quite sure she was tough as nails, as her job would require her to be these days, he also found her adorable with her quirky nature and confidence that seemed to know few bounds. She talked about her love of watching medical dramas on television and reading chick lit that she bought through Amazon so that nobody would know unlike the library or local book seller. "If you tell anyone, I'll make sure you get brought in on unpaid parking tickets," she threatened.

As they crossed out of the city limits, she raised an eyebrow, but he attempted to distract her as he admitted a few of his own vices, including the fact that he talked to the television during everything from sports to commercials. "I can't watch horror movies or slasher flicks with people," he said sadly. "I scream at the cast to be logical and test their hypothesis more fully."

When he turned down a street that seemed to have no buildings at all, she shifted in her seat to face him, her lips thinning to a straight line. "I don't need to remind you I'm in law enforcement, right? You're not planning to murder me and leave me out here."

"Asking you on a date only to murder you seems like an illogical plan of attack," he said, his lips naturally turning up. "I'll remind you that you technically asked me out first. Our fake date and whatnot, love?" He felt the coolness of the evening seeping in through the jeep, his dark jeans and black button down with the sleeves pushed up not combatting much of the chill.

"I thought this was just dinner," she said, brushing it off. "It isn't…" he was concentrating on separating her fingers and pushing them back together as she spoke, another sign that maybe that confidence was not as strong as he had interpreted. "Ruby totally bought that, by the way," she said as if she wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not. "She was telling another friend of ours all about you today at lunch."

He smirked, pleased at the idea she might have been talking about him today. "Is that so?" he asked, prodding her for more information.

"Don't let the ego get too inflated," she countered. "We were mostly discussing your flaws. You must have some." She eyed him carefully, perhaps guessing which flaw he might make known.

"That's more of a third or fourth date revelation, love," he said, turning the wheel sharply around a curve. "I'm currently trying to be on my best behavior."

She admitted that she was too, saying that she wasn't about to admit to having a sixth toe or a birth mark in the shape of Idaho on her left butt cheek. He appreciated the humor, though he admitted he wasn't opposed to seeing if she was telling the truth about such things. She told him that wasn't a second date proposition either.

***AAA***

"This place is…" she said, searching for the right word to describe the homiest diner she had ever seen. It was something out of a movie with gum chewing waitresses and grease stains on the menus. Emma was about to ask if he picked the place out special when two of the wait staff and one of the short order cooks called to him by name. "I guess you do know about this place."

He chuckled, pulling out a chair for her that stuck to the floor. "It's not impressive for its atmosphere, but the food is wonderful," he told her. "When I first came to the states I worked about a block from here. I came every day at lunch."

"And you thought it would be a good place for a date?" Emma asked suspiciously. "I'm not complaining, only asking."

"The food makes up for it," he said. "You seemed to enjoy your dinner last night. I thought we should go somewhere that had similar fare for you." His stomach clenched as her eyes dropped and whatever progress he had made in brightening her mood seemed lost.

"I eat fast," she said a bit slowly as if she was reluctant to say the words. "My friends are always telling me to slow down. They say I should try to taste the food instead of just swallowing it." She laughed nervously, her eyes still staring down at the menus with the faded photos of food that didn't exactly look appetizing.

"Why should it concern them?" he asked. "I don't think it should matter to your friends one way or another."

"This is crossing that line into not a second date conversation topic," she admitted, holding up the menu so that part of her face was obstructed from his view. "But honest answer? I grew up in foster homes. It wasn't like Annie or one of those kinds of movies with rag wearing pre-teens dancing down the stairs. It was a tough situation most days. There was only so much food. We all pretty much were hoarders with it. You knew that if there was food today that you should eat it because tomorrow there might not be or someone might beat you to it. You learned to eat first and taste later. I ate whatever they offered because it was not like I had a choice. So since then I have always eaten in a hurry." She shrugged. "And now you're going to pay special attention to how I eat and assume I have absolutely no table manners."

"You're assuming I wouldn't understand, love," he said breaking the seal on the paper napkin holder. "I didn't grow up in the land of plenty. My mum was raising me and my brother alone since I was seven years old. It wasn't easy for us or for her. She worked two or three jobs most of the time, including as a waitress in a dump worse than this place. We ate what would have been thrown out. You didn't get special requests. You got rejects. So, love, I hardly can judge you for an issue with food and I hope you don't judge me either. I may not react the same way. My vice is that I pick things I know I like and rarely venture out of my comfort zone."

She sighed, lowering the menu to signal she had chosen something. "Sounds like we could get a group rate for therapy," she said slyly.

"Perhaps we could," he chuckled.

***AAA***

She still had a hard time calling it a date. It was dinner with a friend in a restaurant, she told herself. Okay so Killian was someone new, but it was just dinner. It wasn't a date. That's what she was thinking when he opened the door to his jeep to let her in after they finished a meal that as he had promised was one of the best tasting things ever.

"I hope you didn't have plans beyond this," she said as he joined her in the front seat. "Because seriously…I'm about to fall asleep."

"Your stomach is full and now you want to sleep," he said as he cranked the vehicle back to life. "I'm beginning to think you are more cat like than swan like."

She realized that he was still on his best behavior, cracking jokes and trying ease them both into some sense of comfort though she wasn't sure why. It was just dinner, she repeated to herself as she tried to recall the last person she'd had dinner with who wasn't one of her close friends. He was telling her some story about showing boats and the one he had hoped to sell began to take on water, scaring the prospective owners away from the purchase.

"I've heard they now own an Alpaca farm and won't go near the water," he chuckled. "I certainly didn't get a commission on that one."

Her head lolled back against the head rest of her seat as she studied his profile. "You must like sailing a lot to have moved here to pursue a career in it," Emma mused, thinking that a move across the ocean sounded quite a bit scarier than some of her moving around. "What made you want to come here?"

"I suppose you could say a fresh start," he said. "I tried my hand at New York and Boston first, but I found little success. I've had an easier and more enjoyable time of it in Storybrooke."

"I doubt most people even know Storybrooke exists," she said, pressing a little harder. What tipped you off?"

"I was in sales in Boston, computer networking solutions for municipalities," he explained. "Dreadfully boring and almost impossible to do without losing your mind. But I traveled here to meet with your mayor about them. I didn't make the sale, but I realized this was where I wanted to live. Have you ever just been to a place that felt like home?"

She looked out at the darkened landscape, occasionally dotted with the lights from a house or business. "I guess I'm still searching for that," she admitted. "Before I forget, thank you for dinner. It wasn't what I expected, but it was very good. You should have let me pay though. I thought this was about paying you back for pretending to be my date in front of Ruby."

She could see his smile reflected off the glass of the window. "I only wanted to be paid back with your company, love," he said unaffectedly. "But perhaps we could try again on your terms?"

Emma laughed in a controlled way, her eyes downcast. "Killian, I appreciate the offer, but I don't really do this."

"Do what, love?"

"This," she said, moving her left hand in a semi-circle. "I don't date. I'm not the kind of girl that guys want to date for very long. I'm more of the one time and done girl. I'm more of the…"

"I think you're selling yourself short," he said, pushing the heels of his hands into the steering wheel. "Emma, I think we have established that I have an interest in you. I would like to see you again, but only if you wish to see me. I'm not about to badger you with requests."

She bit the inside of her mouth, feeling that stirring sensation that told her she was being an idiot. "Killian, tonight was fun. I got to go some place new. Your stories were funny and entertaining. You've been great, but I know that it is a bad idea. You see, I'm not lying when I say I'm bad at this. I'm not the girl who is going to call you. I'm not the girl who's going to make sandwiches for you and your friends while you watch some game. I'm not…"

"And you think I'm seeking that kind of woman?" he interrupted. "No offense, love, but I don't think you realize who I am. I'm not interested in that sort of lass at all. If I was, I wouldn't be long for searching. They are a dime a dozen. But you, Emma, seem to be quite different and that intrigues me, but you…You obviously aren't interested in pursuing this so I'll step back. Thank you for a wonderful evening."

She forced herself to raise her head, looking at him curiously and the way the light seemed to have dimmed in his eyes as they drove under the streetlights of the main street in Storybrooke. "Killian, it's not you, okay. I think you're great. I'm just not good at this whole dating thing."

"So you avoid it?" he asked, genuinely confused by her. "You would prefer to not make attachments? Because, love, I hate to tell you that you've failed. You have friends and loved ones. It is not that much different."

"No, I suppose it isn't." she said, blinking back her emotions – a trick she had learned as a child. "Is this where I'm supposed to tell you about the guy that ruined me? The one who broke every promise and left me a shell?"

He gave a sad smile as he checked his mirrors and shifted lanes to make a left turn. "Love, I'm sure there is some prat in your past life that did those things. Just as there was a woman who made me swear I'd never be happy again. But they are in the past. I'm interested in knowing this Emma."

She was interested, she heard that voice inside her say. She wanted to know him. She wanted to know what it was like. It was already a new sort of adventure for her. She had known him for 24 hours and she'd already been on two sort of dates with him. She had experienced conversations via text and even a good morning one that had made her smile while she was in the shower. He had brought her flowers. He remembered things she said. He didn't make her feel like she was that different. "If," she said slowly, "if I said okay to another date, what do you have in mind or do I get to choose?"

That hopeful tinge to his voice, the one that reminded her of Mary Margret returned. "I suppose we would do something a little more interactive. Perhaps dancing?"

"You've been thinking about this?" she asked, not sure if she was flattered or freaked out by that idea. She had been thinking about him too, but her thoughts were more of the variety about what he looked like outside of his clothes and how long it would take to wear down her defenses and kiss him. She didn't think about dates and holiday plans.

She couldn't swear to it, but it looked like he blushed. "Aye, you're a bit irresistible," he said, his voice not sounding as unaffected as before. "I wasn't lying when I told your friend that I had not stopped thinking about you. You are an intriguing woman who I wanted to get to know better."

***AAA***

David sat on the couch in Mary Margaret's loft apartment and grinned as she attempted to serve one of his favorite meals. It appeared that she was bound and determined to appear as domestic as possible, even emphasizing that she had rolled out her own dough for the chicken pot pie that she knew he liked. While he found it endearing, he was also aware that she had experienced the same privileged upbringing that he had. In fact, their stories were similar but opposite in that he had been raised by his mother in a somewhat middle class setting before his father had returned to his life and brought him into the world of privilege and excess. She had been born into that world only to have it pulled away from her after the death of her mother and subsequent death of her father.

"I invited Emma to come get some of this since I made so much," she explained to him, "but she's out on a date tonight so my cooking didn't rate that high for her."

David took a sip of the wine he had brought for them to sample. "A date? Emma?" He was well aware of his deputy's penchant for avoiding anything resembling a social life. He could completely understand the sentiment. "Where on earth did she meet the guy?"

The teacher scooted her chair up to the table in her kitchen. None of the chairs matched, a purposeful decision to be a little eclectic and different. "I think he said they met when she was responding to a call at work," Mary Margaret said, furrowing her brow as she tried to remember the details of her conversation with Ruby. "Something about a disturbance at the docks."

The sheriff swallowed his next sip and tapped his finger thoughtfully on the glass. "Odd," he said, shrugging his shoulders a bit in confusion. "I usually send Robin or John on those calls. They are more intimidating than Emma. Oh well, he must be quite a guy to get her to go out with him."

"Twice," Mary Margaret said with the same enthusiasm she reserved for engagement announcements or babies. "They went out for drinks and a picnic dinner last night. And now they are out again tonight. I think it's fantastic."

"That's…Wow…" He didn't know what to say. Emma was practically a sister to him. He felt odd not knowing such a detail about her life, especially when it was clear that Emma had shared the details with both Mary Margaret and Ruby. "Maybe he's the reason she's not wanting to go on this family weekend thing. I wondered about that. But a new guy in her life explains a lot."

"Was she invited?" Mary Margaret asked, her eyebrows shooting up in a feigned innocence. "I didn't think your father would want her there. He's never really liked her."

David shifted uncomfortably in his seat, taking a bite of the dinner to give himself a moment before answering. "It's not so much of a pleasure trip anyway," he said, attempting to sound as though his father's intentions were common knowledge. "He's wanting to talk to me about my plans for running for another term as sheriff. Right now there doesn't appear to be any competition for the spot so I feel like I might as well."

Mary Margaret's lips remained on the fork for a moment too long. "I thought we were considering you not running for public office," she said softly as the fork hit the plate. "The more you do those things, the more your father has control." She didn't add that he had already threatened to cut ties with his father several times already and failed to so.

"But I do like the job," he pointed out. "I was also thinking that my father might be ready to hear some of my other plans too."

***AAA***

Emma's back was to him as she jiggled the key in the front door lock, spinning around to face him as it gave way and unfastened the door. "This is where I'm supposed to say I had a nice time, right?" she asked, laughing nervously at herself. She wasn't sued to a guy who walked her to her door unless it was a given that he would be coming inside. This was a bit more complicated. She had already told him that she did not think it was a good idea to do this again, so did that mean this was it. For some reason that seemed quite sad to her.

"As did I," he said, flashing his own somewhat nervous smile. "I suppose if we were planning another such date, I might be endeavoring to kiss you right now." She could see the hopeful search of his eyes on her as he tried to play the statement off as playful and teasing.

"You are trying to convince me I'm wrong, aren't you?" she laughed again. Her left hand on was on the doorknob that pressed against her lower back. "Dancing?"

"Believe it or not, Swan," he said, doing a bit of a side step without music. "I have moves."

"I'm sure you do," she teased. "I might just have to agree to this date to see you in action." She pursed her lips in a thoughtful expression. "When?"

His smile lit up his face. "Friday?"

She sighed as though this was a decision that was weighing her down with its enormity. "Friday." He seemed to like the answer, she assessed from the way he couldn't quit grinning at her. She knew she would probably regret it, but he had not shown her any reason to doubt her decision yet. That same small voice that told her she was not cut out for anything more than an occasional fling spoke back loudly in her head and begged her to take a chance for once.

His right hand rose up to his face, his middle finger tapping against his lips. "Does this mean?" he asked, his cheeks already flushing.

She didn't wait for the rest of the question or for the answer to pop into her head. With both of her hands, she fisted his shirt to pull him toward her. Their mouths crashed together and his stuttering grunt of surprise disappeared upon contact. While she had found him to be sweet and gracious on their date, the kiss did not reflect it as their lips parted as she sought out a solution for her doubts with her tongue. He gripped her hip tightly, seeming to seek out a way for their bodies to be even closer than the way they were currently pressed together. His other hand sought hers out, entwining their fingers as though that might somehow make the experience more intimate. Her breath was warm on his mouth as their tongues danced feverishly. Every sigh and moan was captured and every movement a crisp contrast to the uncertainty of the two people.

 _ **Thanks for reading!**_


	4. Chapter 4

**_Thanks for being patient and all the great comments. I'm up to my eyeballs in packing boxes and won't have internet access for about two days this upcoming week with the move and all, but I'm still alive and kicking. It feels strange that my cardboard Captain Hook is now boxed up, but I insist that he will be one of the first things I unpack. I need my inspiration. In the meantime, here is another chapter for you. Enjoy!_**

Killian's feet did not feel as firmly planted to the floor as he would have liked as she crashed her lips into his, giving him momentary hesitation that he might actually trip over her instead of hold her. That fear was soon replaced by her softness against him and his own desires that seemed to be screaming at him.

When she finally pulled away, she looked both pleased and dazed with her eyes wild, pupils blown, and her tongue darting out along her pink lips as she instinctively tried to savor the taste of him. He didn't speak, not wanting to break the spell of the moment. He didn't even realize he was holding his breath until it came out in a whoosh that made her lips curl up in a proud smile.

"Was that what you had in mind?" she asked, her tone light and teasing as his fingers touched his lips for a moment. Like her, he was trying to savor or at least process the kiss.

"Are you asking for a critique, love?" he said, hoping his voice was just as light and playful. He couldn't tell her that just holding her during the kiss had thrown him for a loop. Every point where his body met hers was like a pebble dropping in water, radiating ripples of pleasure. He was not stupid. He knew that would be too much for her to deal with and probably a good enough excuse to never see him again.

She laughed breathlessly as she leaned against her door with a hand bracing the knob. "I'm wondering if I should invite you inside," she said.

He narrowed his eyes, trying to read her a little better. She confused him. Actually, she confounded him and he didn't mind admitting that. She was cold and standoffish to the idea of another date. Yet she kissed him as though she wanted to seduce him and was considering inviting him in for what he assumed would be more than a game of checkers. "I don't know that you want to do that," he said, hoping that he didn't sound too innocent or naïve. He was perfectly willing and capable of taking her inside that apartment and ravishing her within minutes. However, he doubted that would help him plead his case for a continued relationship. "Perhaps I should say good night."

She nodded once. "You really want another date, don't you?" she asked innocuously. "Otherwise we…"

"I want to woo you," he said as though he was telling her what toppings he wanted on a pizza. "I want you to realize that I'm not just trying to get you into bed. I want more than that."

He didn't turn, noticing from the corner of his eye that she was loosening the grip on the doorknob and stepped back toward him with cautious movement. He realized that she wasn't going to say anything about his confession. That wasn't her style. She seemed unbelieving that anyone could care about her or be interested in her more than just a good time. Slowly she came towards him, her eyelids lowered half down and she licked her lips. "Good night, Killian," she said softly. This time it was more of a gentle press of her lips to his instead of a crash. He again let her set that pace.

The tip of her tongue peaked out to run along the seam of his lips wanting to take the taste of him. Demanding air, her body drew in a long breath through her nose, savoring his warm scent, wanting to inhale every bit of him. There was an almost inaudible moan as she exhaled slowly.

She had no memory of moving at all but found her hands now resting on the warm skin of his neck, one thumb brushing gently across his earlobe. Once more her tongue ventured out leaving just enough wetness behind to allow her to softly suck his bottom lip between hers.

Too soon she felt his hands pushing her hips away and she reluctantly moved back on a sigh. Taking a deep steadying breath and smiling into his eyes, she placed a hand on his heart as he whispered goodnight and then turned to walk away. He held his breath, willing himself to walk gracefully down the stairs and to the door. The cool night air felt good on his flushed skin. He leaned on the building for a moment to get his barring and with a wide smile, walked back to his jeep.

***AAA***

Emma knew she had a sweet tooth, as it was something all the rest of the force teased her about constantly. She worked out quite a bit to take some of the threat off, but still she loved the taste of chocolate and anything with icing or caramel sauce. Her office companions also knew that it was a great way to get her to do things. They constantly brought her little snacks or treats to get her to switch shifts or other favors. So when Graham arrived with a sticky bear claw that Monday around 11 a.m., she eyed it and then him with suspicion.

"I thought these were your favorite," he said with a slight frown. "I went four places looking for them."

"I'm trying to decide if whatever you want is worth the extra calories," she said, scrutinizing the treat. "Can I ask what you want first?"

"Information," he admitted, plopping himself down in the chair across from her desk. She still looked suspicious. "David?"

"What about David?" Emma asked, snatching the treat from his hand. "I don't know much these days."

"Is he running again?" Graham asked, his voice lower and his body leaning toward her. "I heard that he might not."

She broke off a piece of the pastry and popped it into her mouth, chewing slowly. "I haven't heard anything," she said then held the bear claw back out to him. "Do you want this back?"

"No," he laughed. "I had hoped you would know. I'm considering…"

He broke off his sentence as Robin entered the room. She watched him back away, his face pale. "You are considering what?" Robin asked. "If you're considering picking up lunch today, I could go for the fish special at Granny's. I know that stuff is probably frozen, but it's good anyway. I love it."

Graham sheepishly looked at the newly arrived deputy. "I was considering asking for a day off next week," he lied. Emma was a bit surprised that Robin failed to pick up on it.

"Not Thursday," Robin answered, picking up a thick file from his in box and settling in with behind his usual desk. "Roland's parent teacher conference is that day."

Graham nodded mutely before turning on his heel and heading to the door. "I'll talk to you later, Emma," he said before disappearing out into the corridor.

***AAA***

David gave a little wave and smile to Mary Margaret as she led her class of students out of the school's gym on Tuesday morning. Each term he and one of the deputies would do a presentation for the classes on stranger danger, bicycle safety, water safety, or something else geared toward the students. For 90 minutes he and Emma had been talking to the students about being safe online while the children's eyes glazed over and the questions from them were never on topic.

"That went well," Emma said as she pulled down a chart they had used for the presentation. "I mean nobody fell asleep or pulled the fire alarm to get away from us."

"That's a pretty low standard, Emma," he answered, fiddling with the laptop to close the presentation and remove his thumb drive. "I hope that you are a bit more discerning when it comes to this guy you've been seeing." He shot her a look out of the corner of her eye to see if she had a reaction. It was not as dramatic as he might have hoped, as she simply paused to draw a breath and then went back to work.

"Mary Margaret told you, right?"

He nodded his head. "If you wanted it to be a secret, your first mistake was telling Ruby and Mary Margaret. They aren't known for their discretion with such information."

She hopped down from the low rise of the stage and began to wrap up the cord for the projector. "I'm not ashamed of him," she said, trying to keep her voice from sounding as if she was defensive. "Ruby ran into us while we were having drinks. It's not a big deal."

"So you will be bringing him to have dinner at Dad's? You know that's the tradition. You or I bring whoever we are dating over for some meal cooked by the housekeeper he's boinking this month and he judges us for our bad taste." David looked hopeful for a moment, as Emma had only brought one guy around in the past. She usually ended things before it got to that stage.

"I've been out with him twice," she protested. "And he's your father, not mine. He and Ruth divorced before I ever moved here. Stop trying to make me a part of that man's life."

"He likes you," David said flatly. "Dad treats you like a daughter. That's something."

She scoffed, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder as she leaned down to deal with the cord's twisted connection. "He tolerates me because I'm not a threat. Look at the way he treats Mary Margaret. She's practically perfect and he treats her like she's the hired help. And you let him. I am not bringing Killian around to get treated like that."

"Killian, is it?" David asked, ignoring the comments about his own girlfriend and zeroing in on the minute detail that she had shared. "Mary Margaret said he had an accent. Where's he from?"

Emma shot him a look of disgust. "I have two girlfriends I can gossip about boys with, David. I don't need to tell you how hot he is or practice writing my name with his so I can figure out what I like better. But if you must know, he's a nice guy. I went out with him twice and he asked me out again."

David folded his arms over his plaid shirt, leaning back to appraise the situation. "And you're going right? Or have you found something wrong with him that is a deal breaker?"

She groaned, realizing she'd already had this same conversation with her friends. "I'm going," she said quietly. Then a smile broke out on her face. "You're not going to do that brotherly thing where you tell him how you'll kick his ass if he hurts me?"

"You don't usually give me that chance," David said, remembering like she did that his warnings to Neal had gone ignored. He still, though he'd barely been out of high school at the time, blamed himself for letting it go so badly. "If you would be willing, you could invite him over some time. The four of us could have a double date."

He was serious, she thought, groaning at the implication. "We'll see," she responded noncommittally.

David smiled, knowing that in Emma speak that was better than a flat out refusal. "It may be crazy for a little while," he added. "I've decided to run for another term as sheriff."

She wasn't surprised. He'd done a good job in his first term, remained popular with the people, and had no obvious competition for the spot. "When will you announce?" she asked.

"Probably next week. I don't know. Dad has plans for the whole thing. You know that a Nolan doesn't do things quietly."

***AAA***

Killian was not sure that Emma had agreed to another date, as her answer had been to kiss him. That usually translated to a yes, but he was not sure of Emma's language on this subject. Typically he would have just called her, perhaps even sent a text. However, both gave her the opportunity to turn him down more easily. All day Monday they had texted, innocent or flirty little exchanges that led him to believe she was probably rolling her eyes at him. However, neither of them brought up anything about the plans for the weekend.

So that was why he found himself standing at the front counter of the sheriff's station on that Tuesday just after noon talking to a woman who appeared to be either deaf or really good at ignoring people. To his irritation, she kept shoving paperwork at him when he requested to speak with Emma.

"I just wanted to have a word with Emma Swan," he said, speaking slowly and loudly. "It is not about a case."

"You'll need a case number," the woman said, lifting one side of her headset. "And I can't give you case number until you file a complaint."

"But I don't have a complaint, love," Killian said, running a hand roughly over his face. "I just needed to speak with her. I thought she might have a lunch break at some point?" The woman was back to ignoring him. "Bloody hell."

This had turned out to be a bad idea, he thought. He simply meant to stop by around her lunch hour and see if she might join him for a bite. He could raise the subject of Friday again at that point. However, he was beginning to realize that he should have just called. It might have gone better.

Huffing with indignation, he began his retreat from the desk with his tail between his legs. He'd been in sales long enough to know that the real power wielders were not the CEO's or department heads, but the receptionist. If you could not get past that front desk, you were never going to close a deal.

Reaching for his phone, he heard her laugh. It was slightly faint, but he recognized it as the sound that had haunted him since he first heard it. His face was still toward the door to the parking lot and there she stood with a man he recognized as the sheriff, her laughter tittering across the foyer.

"Killian?"

"Hello there, love," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets as he watched her cross over to him. "I wasn't sure if you'd have plans for lunch so I thought…"

She raised an eyebrow, silencing him as he let his eyes drift from hers to his shoes. "You could have called," she said, still smiling but criticizing nonetheless.

"You probably would have screened, love," he countered, laying out the doubts he clearly felt. "I thought this might be more conducive to a better outcome.

"I do have a little lunch break coming up," she said, looking over her shoulder at David, who was clearly acting like he was not listening. "Do you have something in mind?"

She wasn't sure if the look on his face was relief or surprise that she wasn't throwing him out on his ass. "You mentioned you like Chinese," he said, as if he hadn't already imagined her sitting across from him with chopsticks and rice.

"Your memory is a bit scary," she said, again amazed that he could recall such things that she may have only mentioned in passing. "But that sounds good. I have a craving for some sesame noodles and sweet and sour chicken." She turned, the sole of her boot squealing out a protest on the hard floor. "David? I'm going to take lunch now."

David did his best impression of a man surprised to hear his name called out. "Oh sure. Right. I'm going to go get some work done." He took the opportunity to look over her shoulder at the man standing there and regarding him with similarly covert curiosity.

Emma was aware that he was wanting at least an introduction, but she offered only a brief one. "Killian, this is David. David this is my friend, Killian." Both men gave that grunted and masculine hello to each other, shaking hands and looking to her for a bit more detail. She gave none.

***AAA***

The Chinese restaurant in Storybrooke was run by a Latina woman, which never ceased to amuse Emma with the cultural irony. Mostly known for its take out, the dining space was small yet rarely crowded, as she and Killian found when they had a choice of tables.

"Don't you have some big boat deal to make?" she asked, stirring the chicken and vegetables in with her noodles to distribute the sauce. "You have time to take off for lunch?"

He grinned guiltily, spearing a bit of his own chicken with the chopstick when it did not cooperate. "To be honest I was a bit distracted and not much service today. I kept thinking about you and whether you were going to let me see you again."

She raised both eyebrows at his uncertainty. "I thought we established that I agreed to see you Friday. Something about dancing."

His pink cheeks turned almost crimson. "Aye, well, you didn't in so many words, darling. I asked. You said no. Then you brought it up again and I was hopeful but instead of an answer, you kissed me."

She laughed heartily at his interpretation. "I thought you would appreciate that answer," Emma said with a grin. "But I'll clarify. If your invitation still stands. Yes, I would love to join you Friday."

***AAA***

Emma stood at the counter at Granny's diner and waited on her take out order. The rest of her day had been a nightmare when evidence for one of her cases had been inadvertanly filed as closed instead of pending. She was too exhausted to even think of cooking and the lunch fare was long gone from her stomach.

"You're going to turn into a grilled cheese sandwich," Ruby laughed, leaning into the spot on the counter next to her. The dark haired woman turned her back to the kitchen and reclined on her elbows, eyeing the front door carefully as if waiting for someone to arrive.

"I could make a comment that they are the only thing good here, but you know I'd be lying," Emma said. She knew her order was predictable, but it was her go to meal for nights like this. A grilled cheese was easily enough made at home, but there was something extra buttery and cheesy about Granny's that made them irresistible. Paired with a cup of the woman's peppery tomato soup and maybe some onion rings, Emma would down it with a glass of wine and call it a full meal. "What are you doing here anyway? I thought you were planning a big night of research on a new menu."

"Bored," the woman answered. "This town gets old sometimes. Don't you ever just want to run away and start over some place new?"

"I've done that a few times," Emma reminded her. "And I still came back here."

Ruby was well aware of Emma's past, of course. She sighed heavily as she thought about the lack of excitement in the town and in her life. "Let's go out this weekend. Me, you, Mary Margaret? We could see if Belle wants to join us?"

Emma watched hopefully as one of the cooks placed a to go order in the window of the kitchen, but it was too large to be hers. "I doubt Belle will join us," she said, speaking of Ruby's former roommate and the town's fashionable librarian. "She hasn't left her husband's side since the wedding."

Ruby made a face. "That's what happens, you know? You get married or serious about a guy and all your free time is spent with him. You totally ignore your friends and suddenly they are just names on a contact list to send those annoying chain emails to when you can't think of anyone else." She frowned. "Okay…so me, you, and Mary Margaret. We could go to that new club Friday? The one over in…what's that town?"

Emma bit her lip as her friend continued to list the names of the neighboring municipalities. "I'm not free Friday," she mumbled, cringing as she braced for the impact of Ruby's understanding.

"There's that other town…Wait!" Ruby pushed up off the counter, grabbed Emma by the shoulders and whipped her around to look her dead in the eye. Leaning her forehead dangerously close to Emma's. "Why are you not free? Robin always works Friday nights so that he can coach whatever sport Roland is into these days. You're always free on Fridays."

"I sort of have plans with Killian," she answered hesitantly. The change from curiosity and surprise on Ruby's expression changed to disappointment and agitation.

"Oh God," she moaned as though her friend had delivered the news of impending doom. "You're actually doing it. You're getting involved with him, aren't you? You're going to become one of those women. You'll be like Belle or Mary Margaret. I'm going to have to watch movies alone. You'll be with Killian. Mary Margaret will be with David…"

"And you'll be with half a dozen guys a month at least," Emma interrupted. "Anyway…It's a third date not a commitment. And aren't you the one who is always trying to set me up with guys named Walsh?"

"That's different," Ruby said, looking overly disturbed at the idea that her friend might actually be dating a guy. "I know you. You wouldn't spend more than a night with Walsh or any of the other guys I introduced you to so it wouldn't be like this. You're cancelling on me. That's not cool, Emma. Not cool at all."

"He asked first?" Emma said with a little smirk. "Seriously, Ruby. How was I supposed to know you'd be having your crisis of the month on Friday? Do you want me to cancel on him?"

"No," she said sullenly. "I can manage. Maybe Mary Margaret will manage to entertain me for the evening."

"I know you," Emma said, smiling gratefully as one of the newer waitresses handed her the bag of food. "You're going to get all dressed up for the club and probably meet some guy within 10 minutes. Then Mary Margaret will spend all of our lunch on Saturday complaining how you ditched her."

Ruby cracked a wide smile. "I know. This town and we are getting too predictable."

***AAA***

Ruby did have a point about them being predictable, Emma thought as she sank into the tub of hot water with her second glass of wine. She was probably the guiltiest out of the three of them. She might blame it on her unstable childhood and that chronic search for normalcy, but she had doubts that it was as clinical as that. She just liked what she liked and avoided change when she was perfectly happy with the way things were.

The hot water seemed to do wonders for her aching muscles and the tension that came from almost seeing a case fall apart because of a clerical error. She had not actually indulged in such luxury in a few weeks, as her life had been running smooth enough. But the familiarity of the sensation was warm and welcome as she braced her feet against the end of the tub and closed her eyes in an effort to relax against the inflatable pillow she had purchased for such occasions.

Like her Thursday night alone time, she did not answer the phone or the door when she was having her bath time. It seemed counterproductive to do that when she was trying to relax. However, when her phone chirped that she had a text message, Emma reached for it instinctively. She knew that Ruby was probably still sulking, unconvinced that Emma was just going on a date and not changing her lifestyle. Mary Margaret was grading papers and rarely came up for air once she started.

 **Killian: Thanks for joining me for lunch today. My work ethic was much improved after seeing you.**

 **Emma: I have to wonder about your work ethic that you are so easily distracted.**

 **Killian: I happen to be a good employee, but there is something about you that does drive me to distraction, Swan.**

 **Emma: I hope you aren't blaming me for not making a sale.**

 **Killian: Not at all. What about you? How was your afternoon?**

She frowned at the screen, not wanting to rehash the details of her day by typing them out.

 **Emma: It wasn't the best, but not complaining. Lunch was nice.**

 ** _Thanks for reading!_**


	5. Chapter 5

**_A/N: So this chapter took a bit longer. We got our family moved – note to others: don't move in the summer in Georgia. It was a hot and long process. It also took four days to get cable television and internet access, but I'm back up and running now._**

Emma woke up before the sun on Wednesday morning, as she had the earlier shift, staring her day well before Granny's even opened. That meant stale station coffee instead of the richer blends that Granny stocked or even her weakness of a hot chocolate. Dragging herself through her morning routine, she was on autopilot as she showered, ate some toast, and brushed her teeth before applying a little mascara and a bit of color to her cheeks. She was in her zone so far that she practically fell back into the tub when she heard the familiar alert that she had a text message. If it had been Ruby needing a ride home or bragging about some guy she met, Emma might have strangled her. However, Ruby's life and neck were safe when Emma ran her thumb over the screen.

 **Killian: Good morning. You said you had an early day so I thought I'd try to put a smile on your face.**

Emma grinned despite the early hour and her desire to go back to bed. However, she was not about to let him know that his gesture might have had any effect on her. She didn't want him thinking too highly of himself. Rolling her eyes, she sat on the edge of her bed and tried to imagine what sort of man got up early just to text a woman he had known less than a week.

 **Emma: It would probably take more than a text given the early hour, but good morning to you too.**

 **Killian: You're not a morning person. I had you pegged as one.**

 **Emma: I've never been accused of being one. More of a night owl.**

 **Killian: I will file that bit of information away for future reference. I'm not much of a morning person myself, but once I get going I push past it.**

Emma felt a strange sense of relief that his early morning was not just because she had vaguely mentioned her early shift. She wasn't denying that she found him attractive or that he was an interesting person to be around. Quite the contrary. She was drawn to him, despite her hesitation to become involved with anyone. He was earnest and determined, but she was not easily fooled. Neal had seemed that way too. He had seemed so charismatic and steadfast, but she had learned from him and others that disappointment followed such belief in people.

 **Emma: And what has you up so early?**

 **Killian: A fishing vessel with a navigation issue. I have agreed to go out with the crew and see it in action.**

 **Emma: Sounds thrilling, but you might get a chance to enjoy the sunrise.**

 **Killian: It will surely be lovely, but I doubt I can fully appreciate it with a group of gruff fishermen rather than a beautiful woman such as yourself.**

 **Emma: I don't fall for flattery.**

 **Killian: Just another note for my Emma file. I hope you have a wonderful day, Swan.**

She rolled her eyes again, trying not to picture the way he would shift his weight or clamp his eyes shut momentarily when she dealt him a blow of rejection. That was a hard thing to do, she admitted only to herself. She could reject guys with the best of them, but for some reason it was Killian's hurt expression – no matter how brief – or the way he almost seemed to tense before asking her something that made her too aware of him. She didn't picture the guys who she flat out rejected. Not once had she thought about their feelings or how they had reacted afterward. However, with Killian she could see him even when he wasn't there.

***AAA***

When Killian saw the patrol car outside of Granny's that morning, he was hopeful that Emma had managed to sneak away for a bit of coffee like she had complained about before. He was tempted to buy her a cup and deliver it, but he didn't want to have another run in with the front desk clerk. He also did not want to seem overbearing or too eager. So he turned his hope back to the possibility that Emma might be inside and he would get to see her.

However, one look around the crowded diner produced no view of the blonde woman. Instead, Killian recognized David sitting at the counter with a hand on a paper cup of coffee and his eyes scanning the headlines of the daily newspaper. The man was obviously waiting on an order and paying no attention to the patrons who were filing in for sustenance before the workday. Killian had already put in a few hours on the wayward fishing boat, offering a few technical suggestions and product enhancements that would remedy the situations.

Sliding past a sneezing pharmacist, Killian placed his order and stood as unobtrusively as possible in wait for it. He nodded to a few people, but knew none of them well enough to say more than a hello or good morning. His crowd of friends were more than likely still in bed or already at work.

"Killian, right?" a voice said that Killian realized was that of David. "Emma's friend?"

"Aye," Killian said, his voice showing the surprise he felt that David would recognize him after such a brief introduction. The man met with dozens of people each day. "That would be me."

"You here for breakfast?" David asked then grimaced at the awkwardness. "I guess that sounds dumb. Why else would you be here?" He held up his own paper cup of coffee to take a swig only to be disappointed that the cup was empty.

"It does appear to be the obvious choice," Killian answered, holding up his own cup of coffee. "I was in need of caffeine myself." He looked over the sheriff's shoulder as a blonde woman entered the diner, but quickly let his gaze drop when he saw it was Ashley rather than Emma. The quick look did not escape David's attention.

David nodded, gesturing for a refill from the waitress. "Emma's working with the district attorney today to get her testimony prepared for a trial she's got coming up," he explained. "I am sure she told you about that?"

Killian was not fully aware of Emma's work, but he knew enough. She had mentioned such things briefly and told him that sometimes she felt that her whole identity was becoming wrapped up in her career rather than her actual abilities as a person. He had agreed he felt the same way sometimes. "She works awfully hard.

David smiled in a proud sort of way that seemed odd at first. "She does, but it seems to be something she loves. Hell, I was the same way when I first started in the department. I wanted every case. I wanted to save the world." He accepted the new cup of coffee and swallowed the first sip hard before adding a packet of sugar and a tiny bit of half and half. "That's why it's good that she's getting out more now. You know with her friends."

Killian wasn't quite sure where the conversation was going. "Aye, that's important for anyone. I met Emma's friend, Ruby. She seems like a fun lass for Emma to have as a friend." He knew that the other member of the trio of friends was David's girlfriend, but he wasn't sure how to bring her into a conversation when he had not yet met her.

David laughed, leaning forward a bit as though he was about to tell a secret. "Ruby's one of a kind. She's a drama queen for sure, but she's a sweetheart underneath it all. Mary Margaret has thought of her as a sister since they were kids."

"Best kind of friends to have," Killian said, hoping that would be an appropriate response.

Sighing and trying another sip of coffee, David nodded to one of the city council members and clamped his other arm down on the folded newspaper. "So I mentioned to Emma that maybe you two would care to have dinner or something with me and Mary Margaret. I know that probably sounds like a stressful thing given that nobody ever wants to meet the family and we're as close to family as she has in her life."

"I think that sounds like a fantastic idea," Killian said, nodding his head in what he hoped was an enthusiastic fashion. "I'll ask her when would be good? Or…"

David laughed. "I think we both know that she's probably going to figure out an excuse to get out of it, but maybe we can all work on her. You do your thing. I'll strong arm her and Mary Margaret can try that guilt thing on her."

***AAA***

Mary Margaret was like a child on Christmas when Emma stopped by on Wednesday after classes were over and all the children had gone home for the day. "Really?" the woman squealed her pixie cut hair bouncing as she threw herself into Emma's arms for a hug. "You want me to go shopping with you?"

Emma's eyes fluttered shut as she resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the overly enthusiastic reaction to news that she needed help. She had reluctantly admitted that she needed something new to wear Friday night, as her closet was a bit lacking on such outfits. She had plenty of jeans and sweaters. She had more than a few slinky little dresses for when Ruby insisted that they were going out to meet men. However, none of that seemed right when her date wanted to woo her – whatever that meant.

"You didn't go to Ruby?" Mary Margaret asked, her voice settling as she realized she might not be Emma's first choice for a shopping partner. "She's better at fashion questions than I am."

Emma gave the teacher a crooked grin. "I don't quite want to go the Ruby route here," she said. "She looks great, but it's not really my style for the evening." She blushed a little as she thought of the latest outfit their friend had worn. Emma wasn't sure that she could pull that off without breaking her neck in the shoes or dying of embarrassment when a wardrobe malfunction inevitably happened.

"And you wanted to be more my style?" Mary Margaret asked, looking down at her own floral patterned dress and three quarter length sleeved cardigan.

"I was thinking somewhere between teacher chic, deputy comfortable, and Ruby."

"This might take some thinking," Mary Margaret said, bending down to lift her purse out of her desk drawer. "We should start now. It might take a while and will definitely require some wine after we finish to debrief."

"I wouldn't expect anything less." Emma followed the teacher out the door and wondered if this was such a good idea. She didn't get enthusiastic about things, especially dates. So buying a new outfit or tearing apart her closet was a bit of a reach for her. She even was considering if her undergarments should match or if she should find something special. If she could, she would grab her own shoulders and shake some sense into herself.

Mary Margaret peppered the deputy with questions on the short drive to their favorite shopping area. Where was he taking her? What shade of blue were his eyes? Had he been married, engaged, or seriously committed before? Where did she see this going? Emma quickly learned that if she hesitated enough on the answers to those questions, she got a reprieve in the form of a new question.

"David said he came by for lunch," Mary Margaret said in a way that begged for details.

"David could do to quit gossiping about my social life," Emma said almost sullenly. "But yes. We had lunch. No big deal."

"Emma, I know you are desperate to tell the world that you are free and independent," Mary Margaret said carefully, her hand hovering near the door handle as though she realized she might have to jump out to save her life. "But it's okay to like a guy or even to admit that you might want someone in your life. You don't have to be alone to be independent."

"It's just a plan to go dancing," Emma protested.

"You can call it whatever you want, but it is a date. A date with a guy who obviously wants to be with you. A guy who according to David and Ruby looks at you like you are a glass of water and he's stuck in the desert." The teacher shifted her jaw a bit. "Can't you just take a chance? Emma, he's just a guy. He likes you. You seem to like him. Isn't that..."

Emma's hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, her knuckles becoming white with the force of her grip. "You know I'm not looking for something like that. I don't want a boyfriend. I don't even really want to date or be in a relationship. It's too much to think about. I would rather just go home and have some Chinese Take Out or a pizza."

Mary Margaret's lips thinned into a line. "Sometimes these things do happen when you're not looking or trying. I think sometimes that is why Ruby doesn't settle down. She's jumping from one guy to another and she doesn't take the time to get to know them. You are at least getting to know Killian. That's actually really brave of you." She was obviously trying the technique she had found worked in the past. If you complimented Emma she did not know how to respond and it usually shut down her protests for a minute.

Emma rolled her eyes and hit the brakes on the car a bit hard as another vehicle pulled out in front of them. Swearing under her breath, Emma resisted the urge to flip off the other driver. "Did it occur to you that I am just interested in hooking up with him?"

"Then you would have already," Mary Margaret answered easily. "I'm just saying I'm happy that you seem to be at least taking a step in the right direction."

***AAA***

On Thursday morning Emma heard Robin's snicker as she tried to covertly look at her phone as they waited for one of the witnesses to return from the restroom. While she was not one who came into the workplace with idle gossip and chatter about her private life, she knew that Robin and David were great friends. They spent hours watching different games on television and even took a few camping trips with Robin's son Roland. Obviously David had told Robin something about her seeing someone.

"First text today?" he asked, rubbing the apple he had brought with him against the denim of his jeans. He watched Emma blush at the attention. She sank lower into the seat at the metal table, flashing him a look that she was not going to entertain his teasing. "I guess you don't want to talk about it."

"I haven't asked about your text messages," she challenged. "You've gotten three since we got back from lunch."

"From the babysitter informing me about Roland," he countered. "I don't think yours are the same."

She shoved the phone back in her pocket. "This," she said gesturing around the generically maroon and black conference room, "is what I hate about Storybrooke."

"The government facilities?" Robin asked, sounding genuinely confused.

"The fact," she said, pausing for dramatic effect, "that there are no secrets. Do you know that I changed the color of my nail polish during my pedicure recently? I went with pearly pink instead of stop sign red."

Robin shrugged his shoulders lackadaisically. His teeth crunched into the apple. "I don't really care all that much about your dating life, Emma. I was simply making conversation. Is it a crime that the guys and I want you to be happy?"

She huffed indignantly. "You probably hope that I'll be more of a pushover. If I'm happy I'll give less of a crap about changing shifts or letting you guys get the good cases."

"You do realize it's not all about that?" he asked, taking another bite and speaking between pieces of the apple. "Maybe like 60%."

Emma groaned, throwing back her head as if the skies might open up and save her. "He's just a guy. I'm not sure what the hell all of you people think is going to happen here. We've been out to dinner and hung out in a bar. It's not like I'm planning a wedding over here. I realize some women are like that, but I'm not. You people act like you've never met me before."

Robin looked amused, his loud crunching filling the room and echoing off the generically painted walls. "I was just hoping you would be in a better mood."

Graham stuck his head in the barely cracked doorway, finding Emma pinching the bridge of her nose and Robin biting back a smile. "Were you two waiting on Mr. Scarlett for the interview?"

"Yes," Emma said, grateful for the interruption of work. "He should be back any moment."

There was a nervous tittering laugh from Graham. "He walked out of the station about three minutes ago. I don't think he wants to talk."

"Bloody hell," Robin said, pushing back from the table that rocked with the force of his shove. "He's our only witness on this case."

***AAA***

William Smee dropped the newly revised sales contract on Killian's desk and waited expectantly as the assistant sales manager skimmed over his phone before turning his attention to the shorter and slightly overweight man before him. "Is this the newest version," Killian asked, scanning the cover sheet. "I promised I would return it to them this afternoon."

"Yes," the man answered, shifting a bit uncomfortably. "I asked Eric's assistant for a bit advice on the payment arrangements. It is unorthodox, but that's what you requested."

Smee had been the sales department assistant for longer than the majority of the associates. While Killian had asked him why he stayed in the more administrative position rather than trying his hands at commissioned sales, Smee had said he had no aptitude for it and preferred a more supportive role. Still, he knew more about maritime laws and contracts than most of the lawyers or the junior staff by a mile. Men and women like Killian would make the deals, woo the customers, and close the deals, but it was Smee who made the contracts palatable to both parties and worked out the details.

"Sounds like just what the company needs," Killian said with an approving smile. "Good job, mate." He appreciated Smee's work more than most of his counterparts, but still he found the man hard to get to know. Killian had on more than one occasion asked if the man wanted to grab lunch together or inquired as to his weekend plans as co-workers often do. However, Smee never offered more than a cursory answer that was either vague or a bit gruff. Killian looked up and noticed him hovering, a clear sign that he wanted to say something else. "Is there some bit of news I need to know?"

"There was a matter that will probably hit your desk this afternoon," Smee said, offering a bit of a shrug. "I took a call from Mr. Nolan that his son, David, would be running for office again."

Killian leaned back in his leather chair, his hand just at his jaw. "Yes, I heard something about that?"

"Well, the campaign is looking for a place to have a fundraiser. I told the man that we didn't deal in those types of pleasure boats, but he was pretty insistent. Perhaps you could talk to him about that when he calls regarding another idea."

Killian frowned a bit. "I thought nobody was running against the sheriff," he said, his expression deepening. "I guess it doesn't matter though. What about the other idea?"

Smee ran a hand over his hair, smoothing it down in the process. "I believe he said something about Sheriff Nolan considering enhancing the water search and rescue team for Storybrooke They will need new equipment."

"Now that, my man, is something we can easily handle. I'm going to do a little research. I'll e-mail you the details and perhaps we can have a draft of the proposal ready by the beginning of next week. I'd like to get a jump on the potential competition."

Smee might have said something else but the light chirp and vibration of his phone drew his attention. There was Emma's name on his phone and that familiar sinking and elated feeling at the same time. He loved hearing from her – even if it was just a few words typed onto a phone – but he also dreaded each message as though it might be that message that ended everything.

He wasn't even sure what if anything he could call the relationship he had with Emma right now. It seemed so fragile and tenuous as she understandably battled demons that he wasn't sure he could overcome himself. He knew she was hesitant and he didn't want to overstep, but he felt like there was something there between them, something that different than anything he had felt before. It was early, but he wanted so desperately to explore it and understand what he was feeling. Most of all he wanted to know if she was feeling it too.

He closed his eyes in a silent hope that she wasn't texting to say that she had changed her mind about Friday. He was already mentally creating an itinerary and may or may not have spent more than an hour looking at late night places to take her after their date.

 **Emma: So I'm thinking to grab a drink after a crappy day at work.**

 **Killian: That bad of a day, love?**

 **Emma: It has sucked. I am in need of adult beverages and drinking in a bar is preferable to drinking alone.**

 **Killian: Is this an invitation or just your idea of keeping me updated on your whereabouts?**

He watched as the three little dots indicated that she was writing back immediately. Perhaps she was not quite so reserved as he was beginning to fear.

 **Emma: Just wanted to know if I was going to run into you. I don't know your schedule or habits yet.**

He smiled widely, recognizing that self-preservation of not actually inviting someone but saying that she would maybe run into them was preferable to the possibility of rejection. He'd used it before himself.

 **Killian: It's been a rough day here too. Perhaps a drink would do me some good.**

A few rapid texts were exchanged before he returned to his work, his mind already imagining her sitting at that bar where he had met her. There was something about a plan to see her that made the rest of his day go much more quickly.

***AAA***

Killian had to knock twice before he heard Emma's footsteps and her voice on the other side of the door Friday night, eliminating his fears that she had run away or decided to hide from him instead of their agreeing to their third date. He had to admit that she was a challenge, as she fought him every step of the way, but he enjoyed a challenge.

She swung the door to her apartment open wide and smiled as his jaw dropped a bit at the sight of her. The dress she wore was a bright red that swooped down at the neck to reveal a hint of cleavage and hit just above her knees. It was made from a light fabric that swirled about her as she moved and clung in just the right spots. Her hair fell down her back and over her shoulders in loose waves and her long legs were made even longer with a silvery pair of heels.

"Emma," he said, glad that he could remember her name. "You look stunning."

She smiled, brushing her hand down her own hip. "Thanks," she said, looking up at him through her lashes. "You don't look to bad yourself."

He did a small spin as though modeling and laughed. "I'll look even better tonight with you on my arm, love." He was wearing a tight pair of black pants with a black textured shirt that seemed to be buttoned one button lower than necessary. She could see the silver chain around his neck that nestled into the chest hair peeking out from the v of his shirt.

"You did say dancing?" she asked, grabbing her keys and her clutch. "Just wanted to make sure."

"Aye, dancing is on the agenda," he commented, reminding himself to blink as she locked the deadbolt on her apartment door. "Unless you would rather…"

She spun back around to him, the soft material floating around her. "I think dancing is fine," she said as though he had suggested something horribly boring in return.

He led her out to his jeep, opening the door for her and stealing another glance. She had looked beautiful at the Rabbit Hole the night before, but now she looked even more so. Her eyes sparkling as she loosened up a bit and told him funny stories of her law enforcement experience. She had prodded him for information about himself and seemed to actually enjoy it when he gave her a few of his own tales. He had made a silent promise to himself to make her smile more often, as the look was one that he was starting to crave.

They had sat in one of the booths at the bar the night before, their shoulders brushing as they laughed and chatted well past their first drink. Lingering over another, he had lost his willpower and brushed back a bit of her hair over her ear, letting his hand linger and his fingertips graze her cheek and jaw. To his surprise and delight, she had not pulled away but leaned into the touch. No, it wasn't a grand gesture but he had appreciated it just the same. That movement toward him instead of away meant more than even the fiery kisses that again took place at their parting. Not that he would have denied the impact of those on him either.

"I didn't think you would be the type for clubbing, loud music, and dancing," Emma said from the passenger seat, knocking him out of his memories of the night before. "You strike me more as a low key type."

"Perhaps I am a bit more complex than just one thing," he responded. "Anyway, it seemed an honest way to get to hold you in my arms. Unless you plan on dancing with all the other blokes there." There was a teasing in his voice, but it was a bit vulnerable too as if he wanted her to deny the doubts.

She looked out the window at the lights of the city they had just entered, the colors reflecting brightly. "I'm not going out with one guy in hopes of leaving with another," she said, offering her best reassurance.

It wasn't like the clubs of her early 20s or the places where Ruby would drag her with the promise of cheap drinks and music that thumped in her ears well after they were gone. There was actual room on the dance floor and couples were intimately embraced as the music swelled and filled the air. The lighting was low, but there were few flashing lights that gave her a headache. When he gave her a questioning look that was what she tried to convey – that he had once again exceeded her expectations for the evening.

At first it was not much more different for them than their shared drinks at the Rabbit Hole. He insisted on buying her the house special that looked more like glowing windshield wiper fluid. She wrinkled her nose at it and giggled that it tasted like blueberries only stronger. They watched the other couples dancing, each sipping on their drinks – a soda for him and her blue concoction. His free hand found hers, not exactly holding it, but glancing off her fingers. She smiled at him as he hummed and then sang along with a few of the lyrics.

"Maybe it's the alcohol in this thing but you're pretty good at singing," she said, leaning in a little closer to him. His chuckle and quick question if she wanted another drink told her that he was not good at taking a compliment either.

"I thought we were here to dance," she said, her eyes prying away from his and looking back to the dance floor. He smiled, pushing aside his now empty glass and threading his fingers with hers.

"As the lady insists," he said, guiding through the growing crowd to a piece of real estate on the fringes of the shadows. His steps were not as clumsy or basic as she might have thought as hips swayed and they quickly fell into a matching rhythm. His hand stayed linked with hers and he tugged her closer as they moved together to the beat.

They danced for several songs in a row, fast and slow. Their hands and bodies touched incidentally or with more purpose as the music and atmosphere swept them up in the course of things. After another drink and rest, they were back on the floor her arms loosely draped over his shoulders as the music droned in a subtle tone. One of his arms was about her waist, a hand settling at the small of her back and his other tracing lines with his fingertips along her upper back and shoulder. Their foreheads touched and he marveled in the way her eyes fluttered shut as she drew in a breath.

"You are so beautiful," he said, his voice deep and melodic though shaking a bit his own uncertainty. "So lovely." His next words got lost on her skin as his mouth moved down her face to her neck, trailing soft kisses along the bare skin there.

Her eyes snapped open and her head reared backward at his words. "Don't," she said softly and then repeated it again more firmly. "I'm not…"

"I can't tell you that I find you to be so lovely that you take my breath away, love?" he asked, frowning as she cringed. "I don't mean it in a bad way, only that I am in a bit of disbelief that such a striking angel would allow me to hold her."

Her breath seemed unsteady as she tried to answer his quizzical eyes with her own. "I don't want this," she said, her words coming out vaguer than she meant. "I don't want to like you."

He smiled almost sympathetically. "I fear it is too late for me to make such a declaration," he said, still holding her to him as if not to allow her to run. It was not a tight enough grip, as she pulled away and moved past the other dancing couples to the door. He blinked twice before he ran after her, feeling foolish that he had in some way insulted or scared her.

She was easy enough to find, her back leaning against his car and her arms folded across her chest. "I'm sorry," he said, an apology seeming to fit the situation.

"You don't have to be," she returned. "I'm the one who can't even manage to take a compliment." She looked up at him and then back toward the lights of the building they had just left. "I should apologize. You didn't do anything wrong. It was great in there. I was having fun."

His tongue peeked out of the corner of his mouth as he watched her fumble for the right words. "And I ruined it," he countered. "You don't want this sort of thing. You have made that clear. You just wanted a drink. I've been pushing to make that one time thing into something more. I repeat my apologies, love. I should take you home."

She sighed audibly, not discrediting his observation. "You do know I'm trying, right?" she asked as he made a move toward the passenger door to open it. "I've…I've been having fun with you. I like spending time with you."

He paused, his hand still reaching toward the door but afraid to move much more in fear of stopping her confession. "And I with you," he said, holding his breath as her arms unfolded.

"I don't want to ruin that," she admitted. Her eyes closed again, tighter this time to block out the voices and the intrusions. "I do that all the time. I ruin everything good in my life because I'm too busy trying to figure out what is wrong with it. I turn over every coin looking for the flaws."

His extended arm lowered slowly. "And so you're looking for the flaws in me?"

She only nodded, the breeze that had cooled them upon exiting the club now blowing back her hair.

"I'm not perfect, love," he said as if he was revealing some huge secret. "And as lovely and brilliant as you are, lass, you aren't either. I think we can know that without it ruining anything." She had not moved from her spot against the front of the jeep, but her eyes followed him as he pulled open the door and grabbed his jacket. With slow and deliberate steps, he placed it over her shoulders. "You looked cold."

She thanked him. "This isn't really a place for this conversation," she said gripping his jacket over her like a cape. "I could at least show you what a mess I am in some place that is climate controlled."

His grin was familiar as looked down through his own long eyelashes at her. "How do you feel about pancakes?" he asked. Smirking wider as she looked utterly confused. "As food, darling? I'm not asking for your philosophical point of view on them."

"I like them," she said hesitantly. "Who doesn't?"

He nodded in agreement of her assessment. "I know a place near here with a 24-hour breakfast that will have you singing the praises of syrup. I think there must be 80 different varieties there." He pointed his chin toward the jeep's passenger door. "Shall we?"

It was her turn to nod as she took his hand to help her inside. She breathed in as deep as she could, watching him jog around to his own seat to join her.

***AAA***

Killian was right. The pancake house was not short on varieties. "It's a bit like picking a wine to go with dinner," she mused as he watched her with his hands folded on his own closed menu. "Any suggestions?"

He ordered a fruit laden trio with whipped cream and powdered sugar, joking that he would have to do a few extra miles and reps at the gym to make up for it. She settled for a French toast dish with cinnamon sugar and apples. "I'm afraid the sugar and whatnot negate the benefits of the fruit."

"I don't believe many people come to a pancake house for their nutritional benefits." She settled her hands on the warmth of the mug of cocoa that the waitress had just delivered. He had laughed in amusement at her excitement over being able to obtain it instead of coffee.

"Aye, you are right, love," he said, sipping on his own cup of coffee. "I think it is more of a place to ward off a hangover."

She dipped her finger along the whipped cream that topped her drink, taking with her digit the chocolate and cinnamon shavings. Her eyes closed briefly as she tasted it and then shot back open to find him staring back at her. "So I guess you see that I'm not perfect either. I have horrible table manners."

"A flaw I can overlook if it comes down to it," he laughed. "Emma, I hope you know that I never have tried to look upon you with unrealistic expectations."

"I know," she said, rolling her lips over her teeth. "I should explain what I meant. I know neither of us is perfect. Nobody truly is. I do like you, Killian. I am attracted to you. I guess that should be obvious. I had pushed away guys at the Rabbit Hole last weekend, but I didn't push you away. I talked to you even before Ruby showed up."

He nodded, holding the mug of coffee just centimeters before his lips as though he was contemplating another sip.

"The attraction isn't the problem, Killian." She sighed again. "You've not done anything wrong."

"But you don't think this will work?" His voice was tinged with disappointment, but he smiled knowingly and nodded his head. "I had hoped that…"

"I didn't say that," she interrupted.

"Emma, I'm afraid I don't understand." He lowered the mug down to the table where it clattered against the cheap material.

She cradled and then uncradled the mug in front of her, her eyes focusing on the dollop that floated in the darkness of the chocolate. "I don't know how this goes," she admitted. "It's sad, but I don't know how to like anyone where it is more than just sex and empty promises to call again sometime. I don't call back. I don't text with guys during a break or before I go to bed. I don't hear a song on the radio and start daydreaming about a guy." She saw the smile on his face at that and lowered her eyes even more. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do here. I never do it."

"I'm not sure there are any hard and fast rules about it," Killian said. "To be honest, I'm not sure I'd know them if there were."

She considered that for a moment. "I just feel like I'm fighting against you and then losing the battle. "Then I fight again. It must be exhausting for you to never know if I'm going to be nice Emma and flirt with you or regular Emma and bite back at you for daring to want to spend time with me." Her eyes lifted, half expecting to see him running for the door.

"You do present a bit of a challenge to me, love, but it has hardly dissuaded me. I just seem to appreciate the moments you allow all the more." He grew silent as the waitress appeared to assure them their orders would be right up. "Emma, I wouldn't have asked you out again if I wasn't interested in getting to know you. And getting to know you means more than just the sweet side that you let out when you aren't guarding yourself."

"That side is only part of me," she said, sinking the last bit of the whipped cream with her spoon and stirring furiously. "It's not the real me. I'm more broken than that." She sighed at her own words. There was always that knowledge inside her, but she did not like to admit it. She hated that the people in her life had broken her and left her that way. She hated admitting they had that power and ability.

"We're all broken," he whispered. "Some of us are in more pieces than each other. So knowing that you are broken is no big surprise to me. Maybe someday we can compare cracks and scars to see if we have any in common."

 ** _Review? Thank you to those who have written their thoughts and ideas. I really do get excited with each notification._**


	6. Chapter 6

**_You guys are awesome with your comments and kudos/favorites/follows. I'm overwhelmed by the good feelings for this story. While my life is still in a bit of chaos from the move. I have unpacked my cardboard Captain Hook, the chargers for my phone and laptop, and found a place to sit and write when I can't unpack any more. I hope you like this chapter. There is some angst coming soon, but angst isn't much good if our couple doesn't have something to fight for in the end. Enjoy!_**

Killian tripped over the hassock in front of his favorite chair as he arrived back at his apartment, feeling a bit dazed and like a fool. There was nothing easy about dating Emma Swan, he decided on the drive back after saying goodnight to the blonde woman. That didn't mean he didn't want to date her. There was nothing further from the truth from that. He thought about her so much that he was beginning to believe he may have accidentally called half of the sales staff by her name. His heart beat so wildly that he quite often felt like he might have to see a cardiologist any time he saw someone who vaguely resembled her. And it only grew worse in her presence when he had to restrain himself from taking her on any available surface or when she kissed him with the softest lips.

"You're a sodding fool," he said, hopping on one foot to save himself the pain of walking on stubbed toes. He was sure his downstairs neighbor loved that sound.

He peeled off his clothing and threw himself on the bed, trying to remember why he had thought it so important to not give in to his baser needs. That was becoming harder to understand even with all his reasoning at not rushing or ruining what he was even more sure could be something better than a fling or a one night stand.

Emma had revealed more of herself by describing her brokenness than she ever could have by stripping out of her clothing and performing any of the dozens of sexual acts he had imagined since meeting her. He didn't deny that it had hurt to see and hear her sounding so fragile and yet sure that he would hurt her in the same way that someone must have hurt her in the past. He had sworn to himself that he wouldn't, but who would not be wary.

"She may look like she's made of steel, but that steel is hiding a fragility that she has spent a lifetime concealing from people who might hurt her," David had said to him before they parted ways at Granny's. Killian could certainly believe it. There were chinks in the armor that gave him a glimpse of the woman she truly was, but that did not scare him. It intrigued him and made him want to prove to her that it was okay to let him in.

Then there was the whole physical attraction to her. He'd be a bloody fool to not admit that he was drawn to her at first because she was beautiful. Her long blonde hair and even longer legs had attracted his eye from the moment she sat down. She had not been one of those affected little beauties, he had noticed right away. She had drank cheap beer and ignored the conversations around her in favor of the muted television. He had noticed the rest, the perfect way her ass filled out the tight jeans and the way her breasts rounded out the sweater she wore. But the thing that had drawn him in was the smile on her lips. He had seen it shine back at him with a mixture of curiosity, annoyance, and welcome that had made him want to say something to make it appear again.

His apartment was unlike hers in many ways. While it too was small and cramped, he had few photographs or mementos to remind him of his past. She had framed pictures with friends, certificates, newspaper articles about her accomplishments, and ticket stubs from concerts. He'd seen few signs from her childhood, but he knew that was a closely guarded set of secrets that he was not trusted enough with at the moment. Even her furniture seemed to tell a story while his was showroom style from the local furniture store. He had little doubt that her bed was the same way with a combination of her practical side and the warmth that she craved. He could picture her there on buttery soft sheets with her hands twisting the material and her hair splayed out on a pillow. Her naked body would be glowing in the light, a thin sheen of sweat forming over her flushed skin.

Running a hand over his face, he groaned. Even furniture was not safe to think about with her.

He was aware that he was fighting a losing battle and only hoped he could make it through an evening with her without making an utter fool of himself. As it stood, he was beginning to worry that once she did weaken his defenses, the whole even might be too soon over with his state of being.

***AAA***

Ruby looked way too cheerful that Saturday morning as she pounded a booted foot on Emma's door with her hands wrapped around two cups of coffee. The smile on her face was not returned as a bleary eyed Emma pried open the door and leaned her tousled head against the frame. "It's 5:30," she muttered. "And you're banging on my door."

"And you promised to call after your date last night," Ruby said impatiently. "I checked the parking lot. He's not here so open up and let me in. I want to talk."

"I had 20 minutes before my alarm," Emma muttered, opening the door despite her internal voices telling her it was a bad idea. "You suck as a friend. Friends let friends sleep."

"Friends bring coffee," Ruby responded, sauntering into the kitchen and setting the two cups down before shimmying out of her jacket. "You would have screened my calls and ignored my texts. I've already been insulted by you taking Mary Margaret with you shopping. Can I please have my girl time now or are you going to be an obstinate bitch about this?"

Emma groaned, following her friend into the kitchen as she grabbed her cup and proceeded to doctor it up like she wanted. "You have a few minutes, but I have to tell you that it will take that long for the coffee to kick in and for me to form a coherent sentence."

"So…" Ruby said, plopping herself on the chair in the living room and curling her legs under her. "Third date? How did it go?" She sounded way too cheerful for such an early morning.

Emma sipped slowly on her drink and wondered just how much to tell the dark haired woman. Ruby was unlikely to understand her trepidation, but as friends she would certainly try. "He's a pretty great guy," Emma mentioned evasively. "Last night was no different. He tried to be understanding and patient despite all my quirks."

"I already knew that he was certainly a hottie," Ruby said. "He's adorable and sexy at the same time. But tell me about where you went. What did he wear? How good of a kisser is he? Details girl!"

Emma's white flannel pajamas with the thin blue strips felt rumpled compared to Ruby's leather pants and satiny red shirt. "He's very talented in that area," Emma again said in her most evasive tone. "Ruby, I think the fact that I went out with him three times should be proof enough for you."

"But where is he?" Ruby asked, her eyebrows raising practically to her hairline. "I mean three dates, Emma. I know you're not as adventurous as me, but seriously. Are you turning into Mary Margaret? Are you waiting for a ring or something? Did you read some book about waiting for sex makes it better?"

Laughing nervously, Emma pictured the goodbye from earlier that morning. She'd only managed to throw herself into bed about three hours before Ruby's loud awakening knock. She and Killian had stood at her door again with their mouths and bodies fused together. Despite the near breakdown of emotions she had trotted out in front of him, she still found herself making out with him like an oversexed teenager. And yet again he had denied her when she invited him inside. This time he told her that he wasn't intending to rush through such a thing with her.

"I intend to take my time with you, love," he had said, his mouth so close to her ear that she wondered if he could hear what felt like her heart thumping in her head. "I'm not planning to cut things short because of an alarm clock or a work schedule."

Emma did not repeat his words completely or even how she had landed so hard against the door with the next kiss that she was sure her apartment number was imprinted on the back of her head. She threw in an assurance that she was not just considering the physical side of her relationship with him.

Ruby feigned a teary eyed expression, waving a hand in front of her face in a mocking way to display her surprise. Her foray into the surprised expression did not last long before she giggled. "You really like him, don't you?"

"I don't know," Emma said, scrunching up her face.

There was a satisfied huff from Ruby as she laid down her cup and hugged herself. "You know I'm not big on the whole dating the same guy thing and doing the Mary Margaret dance of commitment, but I see the appeal. He's more than hot, Emma. And you like him. I think that's great. If I found a guy I could stomach after more than a few hours, I might consider…"

There was another groan. "All I'm considering right now is how to get out of this whole double date with the perfect couple," she said. "David and Mary Margaret are getting pretty insistent."

Ruby shrugged. "Just go with it. Mary Margaret will make miniature hamburgers or something else cute and David gets to try out that fatherly advice he loves to spout when it comes to you. I think it should do them good. And believe me, if Killian sticks around with those two in your life, you're golden. He stuck around after meeting me, didn't he?"

***AAA***

"A 70-footer and she's a beauty," the company's sales manager, Eric, said to Killian later that morning as they walked down the dock. "I'd buy her if I could afford her."

Killian whistled low at the sight of the boat they were discussing. It gleamed in the autumn sunlight, the gentle waves lapping around the white vessel. He couldn't help but imagine owning such a boat himself, a sunset sail with Emma, holding her as the sky turned shades of pink and orange and the taste of the salty sea air on her lips as he kissed her. "A few more sales and you should be able to, mate," Killian said, hoping that Eric did not see the glow in his own eyes. "You pulled a good commission on that sale last week."

"I did, but I also have Ariel and that damn house we're trying to build. Don't ever try to build your own house. Contractors will eat you alive with extra costs. Did you know that there are luxury doorknobs? I didn't until Ariel decided that we had to go with the ergonomically correct versions. Each of them run at least $50 more a piece. That whole damn house is full of doorknobs." The dark haired man shook his head mournfully. "That's where all my money is going right now."

Killian chuckled at the idea that his friend and co-worker was so whipped by his red headed fiancé. Making a whip sound and gesture, Killian sauntered down the dock a bit farther. "I'm sure the house will be quite the showplace by the time you guys are through with it."

Eric grumbled about wanting a simple home and not some castle, but their conversation turned to the request by the sheriff and his father for both the new rescue boat and a place to hold a fundraising party. "Qualifying isn't for another few days, but I guess he wants to get a jump on things," Eric said disdainfully. "What if he doesn't even have any competition? Is this even worth it?"

"I don't pretend to understand politics," Killian answered. "But I think I have an idea for one that can be secured for the party. I'm actually supposed to have dinner with the sheriff tonight."

That news did not seem to surprise Eric who nodded and said that he would trust Killian to make a deal that the Nolans could not refuse. "I don't care who you have dinner with as long as you close the deal. We can't afford not to get that sale."

***AAA***

Emma watched Graham out of the corner of her eye, seeing the way he hovered just beside her desk as David shoved a few papers in his desk drawer and locked it as he did every day before he left. David gave Emma a quick smile and told her that he would see her later at dinner, promising that Mary Margaret had big plans for this meal and to bring her appetite.

"Dinner with the boss?" Graham asked as soon as the sandy haired sheriff had left. "I thought you were vehemently opposed to socialization outside of work."

Emma frowned as she shook an envelope and let the documents fall out onto her desk. "They invited me to have dinner to get to know this guy I've been kind of seeing," she said, twisting around the papers to make sure they faced the same direction. "It's just a thing."

"So there is a guy," he said smugly, folding his arms behind his head as he sat down in the chair and let his long legs cross in front of him. He appeared the picture of relaxation and calmness compared to her harried scouring of the papers.

She shot him a dismissive look. "I think we've established that there is a guy," she said, thinking of Robin's admission that there had been talk. "But it seems a bit much for him to be subjected to David and Mary Margaret at this stage. I told her that."

"And when that didn't work?" Graham asked, amusement evident in his tone. He had come head to head with the teacher before, losing to the battle of wills with the woman.

"She started planning the menu and I'm bringing the wine," Emma muttered.

He didn't laugh, but his smile was one of pure amusement. "So about those plans for transferring," he said awkwardly. She had not asked him about his hopes for a more exciting future, but he was obviously thinking about it. "I have made a decision."

The least she could do, she thought, was drop her papers to fully focus on his statement. She did that, turning in her seat to face him. "What decision is that?"

"I'm going to run for sheriff. Against David."

"You're going to what?" Emma asked, her jaw dropping from the news. Opposition for David's job was a natural thing, but she had always assumed that it would come in the form of an outside opponent, not an internal one. How were they supposed to work together in the weeks leading to the election? This was madness. "Is that a good idea?"

He sighed, dropping her gaze as he stared at his boots that needed relacing. "I know it will be awkward, but damn it I need a change. I need a challenge. I can't live like this, Emma. I'm floundering here and I have to do something. Maybe this is it. Maybe I'm meant for this."

"If you're looking for a challenge then start a new hobby or buy a crossword puzzle book. Don't run for public office. When I'm bored I don't run for mayor. I simply go do something."

He let out a low growl as he curled forward to rest his hands on his legs. "I like David," he said as though that somehow made this announcement less of a big deal. "I have enjoyed working for him, but I think I'm better qualified. He's doing this because of his dad. He doesn't truly want to be…"

"David's a good sheriff," Emma protested, not wanting to hear anything against the man she considered to be a brother. "He's got the backing of the whole town. Why would you think you could beat him?"

"I have to try," Graham said. "I need to do this. I hoped you would understand."

***AAA***

"Love?" Killian called out from the door of her apartment. "Are you in there?"

Emma had left her door open after attempting to bake cookies for that evening's get together. She wasn't much of a baker, opting to get the prepackaged dough rather than mix the ingredients herself. However, she had also lost track of the time and failed to remove them from the oven before the small space filled with smoke and she had to open the windows and doors to avoid choking.

"You're early," she said, her arms up over her head as she waved a folded magazine in front of the smoke detector. "Like three hours?"

He blinked in her direction. "I was down the street and thought I might see if you wanted me to pick up the wine or anything for tonight, but you didn't answer your phone." Taking a step forward, he grabbed her wrist and removed the folded magazine to take over the fanning. He took back over "I see now that you were quite busy."

Emma gave him an appreciative smile and went to pull an oscillating fan she had acquired at some point in her life out of a cabinet. Attempting to redirect the smoke, she grinned at Killian's encouragement and direction to point it a little to the left or upward. "I guess you're grateful that I'm not making dinner tonight."

"I think I might have found one of those flaws you were worried about," he laughed. The fan seemed to help as the smoke dissipated though the stench of the burned cookies remained. Lowering his arm, he reached over to rub his now sore shoulder. "Though you may have been going for a blackened dish?"

"I was making chocolate chip cookies," she said sheepishly. She was standing over her trash can scraping the burnt remnants from the pan. "I sort of forgot about them."

"I see," he said looking at the pan and back at the smoke detector. "You might want to just throw out the pan. I believe it might be more than a little singed there."

She sighed, looking at the charred mess that she was desperately scraping at with a metal spatula. "I suppose so. I swear I am a better cook than this." She dropped the pan into her trashcan with a loud clatter and wiped her hands on the towel by her sink.

"I have no doubts that you can succeed at anything you attempt, love," he said with a smirk. "You don't strike me as someone who likes to fail."

She considered that for a moment. "Does anyone like to fail?"

"I suppose that is a silly saying." Tossing her magazine on the table, he held out his hand to her and pulled her close to him. "I meant to say hello in a better way than calling out to you amid the smoke, love." He brushed his lips over hers delicately. "Hello, Swan."

She laughed, her palms flat on his chest. "Hello to you too." Turning her head toward the kitchen, she smiled. "I did buy the wine. We just don't have a dessert other than a store bought cake."

"That sounds lovely to me. Perhaps we might take a walk or something since we have a bit of time?"

Her nose wrinkled with the scent of the burnt cookies. "I'd like that, but I should probably stay here and air this place out. I don't want to leave with all my windows and the door open. Besides I need to figure out what I'm wearing tonight. I know Mary Margaret wants everything to be perfect, including my shoes matching my outfit."

Killian cast his eyes downward, not lifting his hands from her hips. "I think you look rather fetching like this, but I do suppose Ms. Blanchard would require something more formal?"

She was wearing her most comfortable jeans and an off white sweater that scooped down around her shoulders slightly. Her polka dotted socks were without shoes as she stood on her toes to be at a closer height to him. "I don't think she would appreciate this for one of her dinner. Speaking of which, is this what you're wearing?"

"I have my clothes in the back of my jeep, love," he said, lowering his mouth to hers for another quick kiss, which turned into two more. "I came prepared."

"Of course you did," she laughed lightly. His body swayed into hers, hands at her waist as he pulled her even closer. "You could stay. I mean if you wanted to get ready here. We could hang out for a bit, if you can live with the smoke and burnt cookies." She suddenly appeared quite shy with the request that he might stay. The apartment felt quite small and the concept of him staying there to change clothes felt unsettling to her.

"The smoke is not that bad. So it sounds like an invitation I couldn't refuse," he declared, "but only if you…"

"I insist," she said, pushing that voice inside her head down a bit farther. "I want you to stay."

It was only the second time that he had been in her apartment though she had invited him in a few more times than that. So far he was more acquainted with her hallway than with the actual dwelling. She gave him a small tour though there was not much point since you could stand in the center of the room and point to all the highlights. Still he followed along as if she were a docent in a museum.

Just as he thought, her bedroom was a mixture of eclectic comfort that he was beginning to see as something just like her. Even with the smoky scent in the room, he could detect lavender which he had already come to associate with her as well as the coconut scent of her hair. She folded her fingers with his and tugged a bit on his hand.

"I hope you don't think of this as some seductive or anything, but the smoke is less in here," She said, casting a glance around the room that barely fit her bed and a dresser. "I was thinking we could maybe hang out in here."

He was charmed that she seemed almost hesitant and shy about the invitation, something he felt did not come naturally to her. "Sounds like a good plan, love," he said. "Though I have had a few thoughts about getting you on this bed."

She rolled her eyes and let go of his hand to settle herself against the quilted pillows on her headboard. "I doubt my practically burning down my apartment was part of your fantasy," she said, blushing as she realized she was actually having a conversation with the man about his fantasies about her.

"Smoke as an aphrodisiac?" he queried, his eyebrows raising. However, he made no direct move at her, settling in a fashion much like hers on the opposite side of the bed. He couldn't help but glance around for a clue into the inner sanctum of Emma Swan, but somehow the framed wallpaper samples and floral motif of the quilt did not seem to be completely in line with her sensibilities. He must have been easy to read.

"Mary Margaret decorated my bedroom," she admitted, crossing her polka dotted feet at the ankles. "I had a mattress on the floor and a television on a milk crate. She complained. I relented. She went flower power nuts." Emma laughed. "I kind of like it."

"It seems like a room for a princess," he said, leaning toward her and kissing the tip of her nose affectionately. "Quite a bit different than my own."

She swatted at her nose as though his kiss had tickled it. "I don't think you need room for a princess. But you have me curious. Black satin sheets? Hidden speakers and soft lighting?"

He chuckled. "Is that what you imagine, love? You picture me as a 1970s pimp?" His brows waggled in a teasing expression as she backtracked and tried to say that she had in no way imagined his bedroom or being there with him. "I understand, darling."

She grinned as he lowered his lips toward her, the few inches seeming to take way too long. Just as he hovered above her mouth, he moved sharply to the left and brushed against her cheek toward her ear. She breathed in protest of missing his kiss, but melted a bit at his attentions. She shifted to better face him, one hand resting on his chest with her fingers making tracings over his shirt. Her other fingers were digging into his thick dark hair, almost guiding his mouth down her neck. The feel of her beneath his lips was almost more than he could take, pulling away to look at her he saw her eyes shining back with a happy and yet aroused glow.

He ran his thumb along her bottom lip and focused on it as he waited for her to lean in before he took it tenderly between his. Their shared several gentle pecks until she parted her lips searching. Slowly their tongues touched the gentle movements began to give way to hungry open kisses. They pushed the rest of their bodies as close together as possible.

She ran her hands through his hair feeling his soft lips trail down her neck. She moaned at hearing his breathing increase. She tilted her head down finding his earlobe and sending his nerves on a pleasurable edge. His hands dug into her hair pulling her mouth until their lips met again. He held her there enjoying her aggressive laps at his lips that were driving him crazy. Finally their lips slid apart and Emma's head came to rest on his heart for a moment.

Her phone chirped and she groaned with frustration. "I'm still on call," she said, excusing herself as she reached blindly behind her for the offending device. "Sorry." Her hand slapped and skimmed on the on the narrow table beside her bed, almost upsetting both the lamp and alarm clock. Her right arm was still looped around his shoulders and fingers playing lazily with the tufts of hair on the back of his head. Her left hand came into contact with her phone, but the success was short lived as she sent it falling to the floor. "Shit!"

He chuckled at her exclamation and pulled her to him, tucking her into his arms. "I've got it," he said, rolling them so that she landed on her back with an oomph as he held himself over her on one hand and plucked the phone from the floor with the other. Smiling proudly, he held the phone toward her. "Your phone?"

She giggled at his gratified expression and held the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

He considered rolling back away from her and giving her a moment to handle whatever business was required on the other end of the line. That would be the smart thing to do, the best way to stop before he went too far for his willpower. However, the way she craned her neck back to look at the numbers on her alarm clock was just too inviting and he could not help returning his mouth back to her silken skin there. If there was any doubt as to the effect he was having on her, the hitch in her breath and tension in her voice as she continued her conversation were all too revealing to him. He skimmed his hand along the edge of her sweater, fingertips coming into contact with the smooth skin above the waist of her jeans. To his happy surprise, she shifted herself to give him better access and said a quick goodbye to the other person before dropping the phone back to the rug covered floor.

"You," she said accusingly, tugging his head back up away from her, "are entirely too distracting."

He smirked at her. "Are you complaining?"

"No," she said softly. "But I take it that you didn't listen to my end conversation." She cupped her hand on the side of his face in a gesture that was both comforting and stopped him from returning to his earlier activities. "That was our hosts tonight. Mary Margaret needs me to pick up something."

His blue eyes shut momentarily. "And I suppose it is needed immediately?"

"Aye," she said in her best imitation of him that made him chuckle. "Come on. We've got to get ready and head on over with cornmeal and eggs."

"Or," he said, not moving from her and his hand splayed against her bare stomach, "we could order a pizza for them and stay here?"

Her other hand pushed at his chest to roll him off of her with an inelegant grunt. "You agreed to this and I had no choice about it myself." She slid off the bed. "I'm going to take a shower. You go get those clothes out of your jeep."

"You tempt me with the idea of you naked in the shower and I'm supposed to walk to my jeep without everyone knowing my business?" He groaned again as she bent to her lowest drawer, giving him a tantalizing view. "You're trying to kill me."

She removed a fresh towel and grinned over her shoulder. "Well, if you survive dinner, we might have to see if we can do something about that."

 ** _Thoughts?_**


	7. Chapter 7

**_This chapter is a bit long, but it contains some of what you guys have been waiting for…_**

 ** _Thanks again for your comments, kudos, favorites, etc. I love to read them and see what you are thinking and how you are interpreting the things in my mind._**

Mary Margaret's kitchen smelled of apple and onion chutney she had made, a special recipe that she had found online and been dying to try. The pixie haired woman was in overdrive, her little frame dodging from one item to another as pots boiled on the stove and heat radiated from the oven. She stopped long enough to wipe her hands on her apron – a definite throwback that she had embraced – shake Killian's hand followed by a quick embrace of Emma. "He's cute," she whispered into her friend's ear as the blonde pushed a bottle of wine into her hands.

There were no real guests when it came to the teacher's loft apartment. Emma was handed a knife and a couple of tomatoes to dice for the salad and careful instructions for size and shape while Mary Margaret put Killian on jar duty by opening various containers for her.

When the teacher leaned over and removed perfectly browned cookies from her oven, Killian had to choke back a laugh that only served to earn him a dirty look from Emma. She practically hissed for him to shut up when Mary Margaret asked innocently if he preferred oatmeal raisin or chocolate chip.

"I'm a fan of both," he said. "But I do have to say I'm a bit partial to chocolate chip."

Emma grunted and stared forlornly at her packaged cake. She hated this display, as she did have some skills in the kitchen. She had worked her way through the community college program as both a server and kitchen help at Granny's on the weekends. For anyone, especially Killian, to think she was completely inept in the kitchen was highly embarrassing.

Mary Margaret was moving at lightning speed around the kitchen, throwing in pinches of salt and appraising her work with a discerning eye. In between taste tests and complex measurements, she praised the wine selection to Killian who quickly admitted it was Emma's choice.

"Emma?" she said, sounding confused and surprised. "I've never known you to…"

"I can pick out wine," she said, frowning. Her knife clanked against the heavy glass cutting board in a defiant sound. "I have been drinking it for a while now."

"Of course," Mary Margaret said, reminding Emma again that she didn't like to insult anyone. "I should have known." Remembering that she wanted to place the freshly made rolls in a basket, she scampered up the stairs with strict instructions for Emma and Killian not to lift any of the lids off the pots.

"To think you could have avoided this," Emma said, blowing a stray curl out of her eyes. "If only I had answered my phone." She sliced through another of red tomato.

"I was quite enjoying our smoke laden activities," he said, moving behind her, his arms going around her waist. He only meant it to be a little bit of a hug, something to tide him over as the thought of not touching her was too much. However, she leaned back into it at the same time, closing her eyes as the knife went to make another slice.

"Shit!" she exclaimed, holding her hand and looking at the knife as if it had personally offended her. Killian circled to her side, lifting her cut hand closer to him to inspect the injury.

"It doesn't appear to deep, love, but I'm sure it stings," he said, wrapping one hand around her forearm and pulling her toward the sink. "Let me clean this up for you."

Biting down on her lip, she held back the string of words that threatened to come out of her mouth. She was ready to scream and cry over the searing pain from the knife, but she did not want yet another experience with Killian to end in her breaking down in near tears and running form him. So she allowed him to rinse of her hand, hearing him ask a newly returned Mary Margaret about a bandage and wrapped her hand up in it, all the while trying to amuse and distract her so that she would not concentrate on the pain.

He wrapped it perfectly, kissing her knuckles with a feathery movement that made her smile at his gentleness. "It's not that serious," she reminded him as he smoothed his thumb over the bandage. "I'll live."

"Can you fault me for not wanting to see you hurt?" He looked ashamed. "I shouldn't have distracted you."

Mary Margaret made a bigger deal of it than necessary too, switching Emma to duty without sharp instruments and continually asking after her through Killian. "I am standing right here," she said more than once as the two found a conversational topic about Emma and her quirks.

"She might be a tough deputy, but don't let her watch a horror movie after dark. I did that once and she slept with a butcher knife in the bed." Mary Margaret giggled gleefully at Killian's intrigued look at such information. "I found her curled up with one hand on it and one hand on her cell phone."

"Please tell me you got a picture of that," Killian said, laughing yet rubbing Emma's arm in a consoling manner.

"It was a scary movie," Emma protested. "Usually I'm fine about those things." She was actually very brave, but something about the murderous child who killed with no regard for anyone was too much for her. She still could not stand the name of the movie to be uttered in her presence, which thankfully Mary Margaret respected.

The two carried on for a few more minutes with Mary Margaret acting reluctant yet joyful about her revelations and Killian eating them up like appetizers. Emma huffed and carried dishes to the table, pretending to be more annoyed than she was at the time. While she hated being the butt of a joke, she was more than a little pleased that Mary Margaret and Killian seemed to be getting along. It made it somehow easier that her best friends did not see anything wrong with him either.

David arrived just as his girlfriend was removing dinner from the oven. The clenched jaw and his the way he gripped the back of the chair as he greeted Killian and asked Emma how she was doing told her that he was clearly bothered by something.

"Just a rough situation at work," David told her, grabbing the bread basket from her and setting it on the table. "We'll chat about it some other time." Emma knew better than to press, but she also knew that he had a completed a late afternoon meeting with Regina over some budgetary issues and an upcoming council meeting. She hoped it was not too bad of news on the fiscal front.

Emma found that she enjoyed watching Killian with her friends. He was in possession of a great sense of humor and talked knowledgably about a great many topics. He and Mary Margaret talked a bit about the new curriculum changes facing the schools and standardized testing practices that he had read about in a recent edition of the newspaper. With David he talked about the department's initiative regarding parking on both sides of the street and a procedural show that Killian loved to watch and the sheriff thought was way too optimistic.

"I know the whole thing is bunk, but you have to admit it is a thrilling hour of entertainment," Killian said amusedly. "I find myself tuning in each week to see it." His eyes flashed at Emma, who had earlier admitted to watching the show too, much to David's dismay. When they were alone for a brief moment – Mary Margaret answering the door and helping a neighbor and David taking a phone call – he had practically glowed as he suggested that he and Emma might curl up and watch a marathon on Netflix sometime. It seemed to be such an innocent suggestion, but Emma could hear the innuendo in it, picturing him on her bed again and doing anything other than watching a television show.

"Don't get David started on that show," Mary Margaret warned when she returned, passing Emma one of the side dishes. "He yells at the television as though they might hear him in this make believe world."

"You appreciate my commentary," he told her, his hand brushing against hers. "I've seen you do your own share."

"I think he dislikes it since you told him that actor looks a lot like he does," Emma accused, happy to participate and not be the focus of the attention.

As the meal progressed, David relaxed a bit and even brought up the yacht rental to Killian. "It's my father's idea," he admitted. "I would rather just run a clean campaign, but my father likes to build on the Nolan name. He wants to make sure I live up to it."

Emma smiled sympathetically at Mary Margaret, knowing that the teacher had concerns over David's father and his influence. "David's father can turn anything into a publicity opportunity," she muttered, as Mary Margaret smiled back.

"Don't think I'm not aware," David answered. "Personally, I'd be satisfied to work at my job, build a life with Mary Margaret, and never hear the words, 'but remember the Nolan name,' ever again." He fidgeted slightly. "And if I have competition this time I'm afraid my father will get worse. But that's not a great discussion for tonight."

Emma's stomach rolled, realizing that David was unaware of Graham's plan to run for office and essentially put him out of a job. She did not want to be the one to tell him, but it was not easy to listen to him speak of plans for a victory party and already sounding like he was making his acceptance speech.

"I also understand that you might be interested in looking at a few options for search and rescue equipment," Killian suggested when David was moments away from thanking his supporters and the academy. "I think that is quite brilliant given Storybrooke's proximity to the open waters. One hates to think about the dangers when surrounded by that beauty, but it is a fact that there are a great many dangers…"

David held his hand up. "No need for the sales pitch, Killian," he said gruffly. "I know the need. It is simply an issue of money right now."

Emma removed the fork from her mouth, narrowing her eyes at her supervisor. "You aren't thinking to use the majority of the equipment fund on this idea, are you?" she asked. "I was hoping we could…"

Mary Margaret's eyes dropped to the table, obviously uncomfortable with a confrontation between the two.

"I've already told you that the equipment you have requested is not necessary and way over our budget. It would be nice, but it isn't required. Killian's right. We can't sit around waiting on other agencies to arrive with boats and sonar equipment every time there is a boating accident. Time is of the essence there. It isn't just a convenience."

Emma cast her eyes over at Killian who seemed very involved in his roast, unable or unwilling to look at her in light of the conversation. "I see where you stand on it," Emma said. "Obviously my opinion…"

"Your opinion is one of hundreds I have to listen to in this job," David said with a sigh, pushing his plate away from him slightly. "As sheriff, I have to answer to everyone in this town. While you and are as close as we are, I cannot solely base my decisions on what makes Emma Swan happy."

"David," Mary Margaret said warningly. "This isn't the time…"

"Sorry," he muttered, looking at each of the three people at the table. "I'm sure we can discuss this more later on."

"Aye," Killian chimed in lowly. "I should not have brought up business at such a nice dinner. My apologies, Mary Margaret. Everything is lovely. I must say that I'm quite impressed with your talents. You seem to be an expert in the kitchen and obviously wonderful at your job. Your talents seem ceaseless." He smiled his best smile at her, reaching over to squeeze Emma's hand that was currently fisting the skirt of her dress under the table.

***AAA***

There was no more talk of business or the upcoming sheriff's race at dinner, especially once Mary Margaret admitted to meeting one of Killian's favorite authors. The two delved into a lighthearted but rousing discussion of the book and its themes. When Emma remained quiet, both of them promised her loan of their copies so that she could read what they were gushing about.

They even turned their competitive nature toward a board game that was good for more than a few laughs and the four tried to remain on their best behavior. However, those instincts could not help but shine as the four stealthily tried to sabotage the others and keep their own assets about them. Emma frowned the one time Killian attempted to help her, alerting him to the fact that she would not condone favoritism or edges because of their relationship – whatever it was. When she won, which she did, she clearly wanted to be in control of her own victory. It was a lesson that he had learned about her. Emma Swan coveted her control in any situation.

Any of the unpleasantness from before was all but forgotten by the time Killian was helping Emma on with her coat. David and Mary Margaret had both covertly told of their approval of him, though Emma tried to remain poker faced about the entire situation. She knew that when Killian instinctively reached for her hand as they retreated from the apartment that two sets of eyes had honed in on that exact detail.

She said nothing until he had already pulled out of the tight parking spot and was headed back to her apartment. "I didn't mean to react that way to David's plans for a search and rescue equipment purchase," she said. "I guess it would mean a big commission for you."

Killian did not turn his head, letting only his eyes drift in her direction. "I did not mean to bring that up," he said, not confirming her assessment. "I can see that this purchase you wish for him to make is very important to you. If it would help, I'll see what I can…"

"I think this is between me and David," she said, picking again at the fabric of her dress with her fingers. "You didn't do anything wrong. It was me. I just want them to take me seriously sometimes. And this was just another example of David pretending to do that in his office and having another plan the entire time."

Killian drove on silently for a moment. "I may have only recently made his acquaintance, but I think that he does respect you," Killian said. "I see quite a bit of pride in his expression when it comes to you."

She was thankful for the lack of light in the jeep as they drove along, her face probably a rosy shade of pink from the compliment. "The feeling is mutual then," she said quietly. "David wasn't always the chosen one in his family. He had a brother, a twin. Everyone loved his brother James, who from what I knew of him was a jerk. Their father had all these plans for James. He'd run for city council, the State House, and eventually the US Senate. I doubt Mr. Nolan would have stopped there. He probably would have encouraged him to run for president."

Again Killian was silent, his right hand reaching out as he drove with the left and running his fingers over Emma's closest hand.

"James died a few years ago and there went all of the plans for a political career of that caliber. David was never interested in all that, but he couldn't quite convince his father that it wasn't for him. The whole sheriff thing was a compromise. He wanted to be in law enforcement. Mr. Nolan wanted him to run for office. Sheriff seemed a natural fit."

Killian smiled. "He seems quite good at it, love," he said, still smoothing her hand with his.

"I think he hates the admin side of things. He'd probably be just as happy to be a deputy, but…"

"His father would not be happy with that?" Killian asked, his expression blank. "Fathers can be like that. I guess."

She turned her face toward his, studying him in the flickering moments of light from the street lamps they passed. "You guess?"

He smiled wryly, withdrawing his hand as he gripped the steering wheel for the turn down the street where her apartment sat. Most of the businesses were closed, darkened windows and empty sidewalks the norm. "You aren't the only one without family to speak of, Emma. I had one once. A mother, a father, a brother…" He broke off, his eyes trained in front of him. "Now…"

"Now?"

"I don't have them," he said. "Don't worry, love. I won't bore you with a pitiful tale that would not even make for a good movie. It is not that unusual."

She remained silent too, the apartment coming into view ahead of them. He pulled into the lot and nosed his jeep into one of the last parking spots. "I'd like to know," she said softly. When he didn't answer, she worried that he had not heard.

"Emma, perhaps another time," his voice said in a strained way that made her cringe.

"I won't push," she answered.

They both sat there quietly for a moment, the jeep's engine clicking and settling after he had turned it off. She leaned across the console and brushed her mouth against his cheek, the stubble tickling her lips. Using her fingers, she turned his face to hers, letting her eyes rest on his before she brought her mouth to his. It was a light nip and then another before he pulled back. "Are you going to invite me back up to your apartment?" he asked, as if she had not already done so.

She nodded yes, falling back against the seat ungracefully. "Might be more comfortable than here," she said.

"Perhaps."

The same silence that had fallen over them in the car followed them upstairs to her apartment. He followed her inside, hovering near the door as she flipped on a lamp and threw the keys to her apartment in the ceramic dish on the table. "Less smoky?"

"Aye, almost breathable," he said, grateful for something to say to her after the awkwardness. He had held back, something he did not like to do. But he didn't want to taint her thoughts of him with the idea that his demeanor and life were somehow influenced by tragedy. She had clearly come through so much herself that it seemed almost wrong to somehow compete for who had the more tragic of upbringings.

"Wine?"

He was still hovering near the front door, having not taken a step toward the couch or chair. She probably had noticed, he thought, but still said nothing about it. It was his turn to nod. That gave her something to do, something other than look at him as though he were about to regurgitate every awful occurrence in his own life for some sympathy.

She sipped hers while he gulped his, both of them looking around the room as though something might have changed since they left earlier. He was fighting an urge to shut her out. The confession of his own family's broken state in the jeep had been unexpected even for him. She had told him over their second dinner together that she never felt like she was enough for anyone. She wasn't enough for a family to adopt. She wasn't enough for anyone to love. He begged to differ. Sure there were plenty of men who would love to have her for a night, to bed her and try to harness all that was still wild and free about her. But none of them would know what to do with a woman like Emma beyond that. They would be lost and so would she.

She had returned to the kitchen to bring the bottle over to the couch where she had led him. On the way back she turned on some music, smirking at the soft sounds that were a bit too cliché even for this situation.

"You seem nervous," she said, stating the obvious. "You do realize that we don't…"

"It's not that," he interrupted. "I feel like a bit of a fool. I was trying to help you feel better because something is obviously troubling you. And yet all I did was begin to whine about my own situation. I'm sorry, Emma."

"Killian..." he stopped her and grabbed her hand.

"Love, I'm sorry...I just..." now it was her turn to wonder what to say or why this seemed so much harder than before.

"It's okay...I just wish there was something I could do,"

"There is...dance with me," he stood up.

"Sure," she smiled, as it seemed an easy enough request.

He led her to the center of the small room, smiling that it was a slow melody coming from her speakers. He pulled her to him, settled his hand on the small of her back and kept a hold of her hand with his other. They looked at each other and in one movement he pulled her closer to him and her hand slid up his arm to the nape of his neck.  
Their eyes never left each other.

His hand began make slow circles on her back - she in turn slowly bushed the nape of his neck. He could feel the primal stir that he did anytime he held her like this. He leaned in closer to her, brushing his check against her temple.

Emma seemed to float. She felt the slow, almost tortuous circles against her back. Those thoughts began flowing through her again. Two songs passed before they even spoke again, each one they danced a little slower and little closer to each other.

"Emma..." Killian whispered.

She simply stroked the back of his neck in reply. Knowing he was not saying it for a verbal response from her.

They had entered their on realm of sorts. Killian felt his own past and brokenness flitting away from him - for now. All he could see, all he wanted to feel was Emma. For that one moment, she was his as much as she could be anyone's. She had let him kiss her and hold her, dance with her, and pretend for a moment that both of them were not about to fall apart.

The music of the next song had a steadier beat, still not fast but more staccato than the ballads from before. He pressed his hips into her. She in turn ran her hands up and down the sleeves of his shirt as he exhaled slowly. She never blinked from his stare.

He had promised himself he wouldn't do it. Not until she could admit she wanted more from him than just a roll in the bed. He never broke his promises - especially those to himself. She reached up with both hands and stroked the back of his neck again. His breathing quickened - causing hers to do the same as he leaned down until their foreheads touched.

"Killian," she said, starting a sentence she did not know how to finish. "What are we doing?"

"Dancing?" he responded, waiting for her to make a joke of it or laugh it off in some way.

"And?" she prodded.

"And I have no bloody clue," he admitted, rocking back on his heels a bit. "Any ideas?"

She shook her head. She turned from him and, before he could stop himself, he'd reached out to grab her arm, preventing her from walking away. He knew it was a mistake the minute he touched her; the lightning quick need only she seemed to be able to create shot quickly through his body and straight to his libido.

They stared at each other for an endless moment, then Killian moved his hand up to cradle her face, cupping her delicate cheek as her long lashes flutter against the pad of his thumb. Slowly, carefully, he pulled her to him again. She went willingly, her body yearning for his touch beyond what she had already experienced. Her tongue shot out, wetting her suddenly dry lips, and Killian gave a quick, involuntary growl. They were less than an inch apart when he whispered her name like a tortured plea, watching her eyes darken with passion as they finally closed the space between them.

The moment his lips sampled hers the world exploded, the sound of her own blood a rushing sound in her ears as her body collapsed against his, absorbing his heat as she clung to his shoulders. It wasn't a suffocating kiss, or even a deep, plunging kiss; it was more of an experiment in texture and taste, bringing them both back time and again for more.

Killian felt her fall into the kiss and followed, his tongue reaching out to stroke her lips, then to savor the inside of her mouth as their tongues tangled together leisurely. His head began to spin along with the room, the buzzing in his mind consuming his reasoning thoughts. He stood in her living taking everything she would give, and returning the favor as she sought more from him.

The soft tinkling of the wind chime outside on the fire escape slowly sank into his brain, bringing him back to reality like a lukewarm shower. He surfaced reluctantly, holding her pliant body in his arms as he slowly released her, his breathing coming in harsh rasps. He wasn't looking for this, had decided not to pursue it; in fact until she was ready, but here he stood. She'd bewitched him, he thought, brought him down to his knees with one merry look from her.

He could have taken her to bed at that moment with few doubts that she would have encouraged him to do so. But instead he took a step back, watching the pain of rejection flicker on her face before she shut it down again. He might be guilty of pushing her away physically, but she was doing the same emotionally.

He'd pushed her away for a good reason, he reminded himself. He wasn't good with people in general other than work. He was really a very private person who didn't care for nights on the town or even small dinner parties like the one they had just survived. He'd been alone most of his life, having been abandoned by his father and lost his mother to her broken heart. He'd never allowed himself to form an attachment to anyone, with the exception of his brother, because he knew that eventually he'd be let down and hurt. Instead, he had relied on himself, not needing anyone to guide him or help him make plans.

He laid the past to rest years ago; Killian had found that it took more energy to hate those who had wronged him more than to simply let the mistakes they'd made go. But the lessons he'd learned as a child were too deeply imbedded to change, so here he stood, feeling alone in her presence, as he usually found himself in social situations. Only this time there was a hollow pit in his stomach, an empty space that he hadn't realized was there until he'd met Emma. It was too much to lay on her with a simple speech. She'd probably file for a restraining order upon such a confession.

He wanted to slap himself and remind his more logical self that he had done this many times. He had bedded women with whom he'd shared little more than a conversation about the weather. So why couldn't he seem to let his body take control of the situation with someone who was as beautiful as Emma Swan? Because he was scared, he realized with dull understanding; she scared the hell out of him with her wickedly tempting curves, her tough yet innocent aura and her bright smile. She was a forever kind of woman, not a weekend treat or a quick, no-strings-attached fling. And he knew that, as surely as he knew his own name, once he had a real taste of her he'd be addicted for life.

"You're going to have to explain this to me," she said as she watched him mentally wrestle with what to say to her. "Because I'm starting to wonder about you and why exactly you don't seem to be willing…"

"I'm wondering the same thing," he said with a sarcastic chuckle. "You'd think this would be easy. I can admit that the first moment I saw you I wanted to be buried between your legs. I've had my fair share of not so innocent day dreams about you, but I keep stopping myself and you."

She tilted her head as though she had not heard him correctly. "Why?"

It seemed a simple enough question. "Because I don't want this to be over," he said, hesitating only at her confusion over his choice of words. "I haven't known you that long, Emma. I can count on my fingers the number of times we have been in the same room together. All our texts are still saved on my phone. I don't know your birthday or even your favorite color. But I want to know those things. I want so much more than just sex. I don't know that we can make it work. I don't know how it possibly could, but I want it to and I don't think I'm the only one." He bit his lip, watching her close her eyes and run a hand through her hair to push it back over her shoulders.

Killian watched her movements go from fluid to jerky and knew instinctively that she was wrestling with herself just as hard as he was fighting himself. He felt suddenly and oddly vulnerable, like he'd never approached a woman before, and doubt began to seep into his blood.

"Do you ever think that you're a lonely person?" she asked, seemingly out of nowhere. "I don't mean every once in a while. I mean at heart."

He nodded slowly, watching her back away from him and sit back on the couch. She had clearly left room for him though she made no gesture other than to look at him and then the empty seat beside her.

"I have friends. Ruby and Mary Margaret. David and the guys at work. They are good friends. I spend holidays with them. We exchange gifts. I know their birthdays and food allergies. I know what kind of beer Robin likes and that David likes to unwind playing a video game though he'd deny it. I know that Ruby's not as free spirited as she seems and is actually really insecure. I know that Mary Margaret loves classic movies and hates the more modern stuff. But does any of that stuff really matter? Because I don't think it does. They know those things about me. They know my middle name and they know how I was not even put up for adoption but just abandoned on the side of the road. But I don't know that they know me." She closed her eyes again, summoning the rest of the words. "They are great people and my closest confidants, but they only see parts of me. And despite the short amount of time we have known each other, you see more. And that scares the hell out of me."

Her eyes darkened with emotion. "Because my identity is wrapped up in being alone. It's who I am. I go out. I hang out. I'm not physically alone, but I come back here and I'm safe. Nobody knows what it is to be me. And for some reason you do. And that's scary and exciting at the same time. I don't even know if I like myself enough to let someone see these parts of me, but here you are. I keep pushing you back and you keep charging back in like those parts of me aren't so scary or dark or screwed up."

"Those parts of you are just as beautiful as the rest of you, Emma," he said, his hand running over the bandaged hand that reminded him how horrible it had felt to see her in pain. "Emma, I don't think I've ever defined myself as lonely, but I suppose I could. All broken people are. We're all holding ourselves together so tight that we can't let other people see because that will mean we might fall apart again."

She sighed, looking at his hand and admiring the gentleness of his touch. "I want something more out of this too, Killian," she said. "I can't promise that I'm ready for it or that I'll do the right thing." He smiled at her with such a sweetly hopeful expression that she couldn't help her own version on her lips. "But I'm willing to try."

"That's all I can ask for," he said. "We can try together."

She nodded, closing her fingers over his hand. "We've done an okay job so far, right?"

"Better than okay." Killian held her gaze with intense, darkening eyes; what she'd said was all he'd hoped to hear. She cared for him and understood him enough to want to try to make something out of their mutual existence. Leaning down, he captured her lips with a slow, sweet kiss, rubbing his mouth over hers with erotic and frustrating caution. His kiss pulled a moaned from her throat, which in turn brought his arms firmly around her waist. Easing her body snuggly against his, he let his need take over, his senses quickly overwhelmed by her scent and taste. He deepened the kiss, sinking his tongue into her mouth as she readily opened for him, plunging into him with swiftly rising abandon. They had done this before, but somehow this felt more like a beginning than a conclusion.

Feeling a bit braver, he stood slowly, pulling her up with him. In a fluid motion and not removing his mouth from hers, he scooped her up into his arms and moved them clumsily into the bedroom. He did not manage to deposit her on the bed, as she slid down his body, kicking off her shoes and standing there before him in the narrow space between the bed and wall.

Emma felt her body catch fire, the hot glow of need burning in her stomach as she attempted to wrap her limbs closer to his. She felt him pushing against her abdomen and knew without a doubt that their embrace had just as swiftly sparked the need inside of him.

"Oh, God, Emma," he whispered, running his mouth over cheek and down her jaw.

She was enjoying his attentions and attempting to quell the doubts inside her that this would too end with an apology and frustration on both their parts. "Please, Killian, please," she begged, not quite realizing that it was her own voice. She only knew that if the coil that was tightly twisted inside wasn't released soon, she would die.

He growled deeply, her words more powerful than any aphrodisiac, and attacked her mouth, approaching her with more passion and near savage attention. She didn't realized he had eased her back toward the cast iron bed until she felt the mattress against the back of her knees; then suddenly she was falling, Killian's strong arms her safety net as she landed on the cushioned bed.

He let go of her lips as he made his way down her throat, marking her with his teeth while she writhed underneath him. He worked his hands between them, his heart hammering madly, and deftly unzipped and pulled her dress away from her body, exposing her full and lace covered breasts to his gaze. Killian couldn't stop his sharp intake of breath as he studied her creamy skin peeking out from the cups that he traced over with his fingers. She wiggled a bit away from him, unfastening the hook herself and peeling it away from her to his smiling appreciation.

"Oh, God, Emma, you're beautiful…you're just so beautiful," he breathed, gently caressing the tender flesh of her breasts.

"Killian," she stopped on a heady sigh, her body swelling and heating from his careful attention.

Then his lips were on her, tasting her, laving her, driving her insane with the sensations. Emma gasped and hissed her appreciation, digging her hands into his thick hair as he made love to her body with his mouth. She felt his hands hook around her thin lacey panties, pulling them down and away, leaving her open to the cool air of the room. Still, he kept his mouth traveling from one breast to another, lingering on the hollow of her throat as he moved back and forth. She wanted to feel him, Emma thought, wanted to have his hot skin against hers, his hard muscles pressed into her rounded curves. With impatient hands, she jerked the dark shirt from his pants, frantically pulling it over his shoulder blades and growling in frustration when he didn't immediately yank it off. When the cloth barrier was gone, he laid down on her, the soft material of his jeans an erotic contrast to her smooth skin, his toned and heated torso sending reckless sensations coursing through her body as the wiry hair of his chest tickled her warming flesh.

Words of her desire for him tumbled from her mouth at a rate that would have embarrassed her in the past. But the smile growing on his face and felt against her skin was reward for her blunt honesty.

"I know, oh, God, I know," he whispered back, capturing her lips with his again.

He kissed her long and hard, drawing her out while he discarded his jeans. Then they were naked together, their sweating bodies entwined as they searched and explored each other, building their need to a fever pitch.

"Killian, I want you, please," she begged on a ragged breath. "Please…"

He knew she was ready, knew he was more than, and positioned himself between her smooth thighs. He gave her a lingering kiss, then paused to stare down at the ravishing beauty underneath him. He plunged inside her, swallowing the quick gasp she gave, and held himself there as he relished both the sensations and reality of being united with her. He was not surprised when she began moving slowly, her breath warm against him.

Her body began to rock of its own volition, need building in her to be with him in every sense. The coil that had been wound so tightly was pulling taut with delicious anticipation.

Killian tried to control himself, but the feeling of her soft curves locked to his, her delicate body responding so completely to him, was too much. He rose and fell with her, letting her set the tempo as he held her hips in his palms and helped her keep a steady pace. He felt himself running towards the edge and held onto the rocky precipice with determination, wanting desperately for her to go with him.

Her body was suddenly washed in a scorching, sweet response and reached with it, searching for the release that was just a heartbeat away. She crashed into it like a wave of molten lava, the heat exploding inside of her as she melted instantly and completely into him, holding onto him as he let go and gave himself over to his body's demand for relief.

They lay together in the afterglow, holding onto each other in wonder and exhaustion. Killian pulled her head underneath his chin, dropping a gentle kiss on her head as she snuggled into his bare chest.

 **Thanks for reading!**


	8. Chapter 8

**_I can't say it enough how much I enjoy reading your comments and seeing the favorites, follows, likes, and kudos. They certainly makes a bad day (which I seem to be having a lot lately) better. This chapter contains a little more sexy times and some friend chatting too._**

 ** _I am sorry this took a little long to write. I started my new job this week and tried to settle into our new apartment that seems to not being living up to expectations. I have a leaking roof, insects, and the noisiest neighbors ever. However, I am trying to be a positive person and look for the best in the situation._**

 ** _To the readers in the United States – Happy Fourth of July_**

So it wasn't like in the movies with sunlight streaming through the windows and bathing their naked bodies in a glow that seemed to come from within. Emma had never been too much for those sorts of things anyway. Instead, her head was lolling off the mattress as her body was sort of diagonally across the bed, splayed over him and his head buried fully underneath a pillow. The quilt that he had admired on his first trip to her bedroom was cowering in a corner as if it had witnessed a few things it cared to forget.

He woke up first, unearthing himself from the bed's lone pillow. He might have to go in search of the rest of them. His first sight of her was not that golden mane of hair or her long lashes against her perfect cheeks. No, his first sight as his eyes blinked into focus was of one of her feet braced against the wall. He couldn't help but chuckled that Emma, a woman who seemed all too unassuming in waking life, was such a wild sleeper that her body took up the majority of the bed.

She had not fallen asleep like that, as he had held her to his chest and felt as sleep finally overtook her. He had rested there with her body half covering his in utter fascination of her, memorizing each part of her body and each nuance of her being. She had seemed so real to him, so unlike the guarded woman who was so sure that he would find a way to hurt her.

Rolling to his side, he could see her more clearly, her blonde hair cascading in tangled waves across her bare back. The sheet they shared was twisted and knotted between them, offering little protection from the cool autumn air. He reached out his hand instinctively to her, not to wake her but to put his mind at ease that she was really there and so was he. Her skin was soft under the pads of his fingers and made him smile with a satisfied glee that she was that close in proximity to him.

"I thought we already had this conversation that I'm not a morning person," she mumbled, flipping her head with great effort to peek at him with one eye. "Unless you made coffee, I'm going back to sleep."

"Your pillow talk is bloody amazing, love," he chuckled, throwing a long curl over her shoulder. "Sleep, darling. I just couldn't resist a glance at you." He smiled as she sighed and let her eyes flutter shut only to pop open again. "Okay I can't sleep if you're going to watch me."

He fell to his back and stretched the best he could in the small portion of the bed she had not commandeered. "You had a request for coffee?" he questioned. "I suppose I might be able to manage that unless you have some oddly technological machine."

"Just a normal one," she said lazily. She attempted to straighten herself up in the bed, fighting the twisted sheets with what he considered an adorable face of annoyance. "Seriously," she muttered. "I'm about to ask for scissors."

He crawled out of the bed, allowing her more leeway with the sheets and trying not to blush as she watched him search out his boxers. However, he couldn't help but laugh as she vocally protested his pulling them on. "I might be inclined to make bacon," he said, "if you are in possession of any. A wise person once said never fry bacon naked." He lifted the quilt from its spot in the corner, covering her with it and kissing her temple as though he was tucking her in for the night. He all but told her to have sweet dreams.

She giggled, grabbing the pillow that had been his sleeping partner and folded it under her head. "I have no bacon," she said. "So does that mean you will get back undressed."

"Later," he teased. If the pillow wasn't the only one on the bed and so damn comfortable, she might have thrown it at him as he sauntered out of the room. Her vision was still hazy from sleep, but she could have sworn he wiggled his butt in retaliation for her grunt of annoyance.

She didn't even hear the sound of the coffee maker hissing to life, a sound that had echoed in her apartment a great many mornings as she tried to avoid falling back to sleep. Only faint noises of his shuffling about seemed to be making their way back to her, but her heavy eyelids shut for a moment and the next thing she knew he was kissing her awake with a silly expression like he had done something miraculous.

"We need to talk about your lack of actual food, darling," he said with a smirk, oddly enough dressed now. "I believe the one breakfast item I found was pancake mix that probably came with the place when you signed the lease. Are you that sentimental? Did you keep it as a souvenir?" His question seemed so serious that she almost answered him rather than looked at the plate he was balancing near her. It was piled high with French toast, fruit and bacon, which she knew she didn't have in her kitchen.

"Want to explain where these things came from?" she asked, lifting up one of the strawberries. "I know they weren't here and my neighbors would have probably shot you rather than opened the door."

He chuckled. "I placed a call to Granny's," he said. "With a little sweet talking, I was able to convince them to deliver." The proud look was back on his features, his eyes regarding her as she bit down on the strawberry.

"Are you telling me that Ruby delivered our breakfast and now has seen you here at my apartment?" she asked, almost accusingly. Ruby would be proud of her for having a guy – Killian – there. She would not be affronted by the idea other than Emma not texting to tell her.

"Miss Lucas appears to have slept in this morning. One of the other staff brought it." He dragged a bit of the toast through the syrup and took a bite. "Your secret is safe enough right now."

She looked at him through her thick lashes, smiling slightly. "I didn't mean for it to sound like I was keeping you a secret," she said. "It's just Ruby has pressured me a bit about letting you stay." If the way they woke up was not a typical scene from a fantasy, her wrapped in the sheet and sharing a plate with him certainly was in both their minds.

"If she encouraged you in such a way," Killian said, his eyes trailing over the edge of the sheet, "I may be obliged to buy the lass a drink of thanks."

"Figures you would side with her," Emma said, indignantly pulling up the sheet in her own version of a punishment for him. "I would and did come around on my own."

He finished the bite in his mouth, his eyes and demeanor relaxed as he rested his shoulder against her headboard and bent his head to nuzzle her hair. "You did, love, proving to me yet again that you are not only beautiful but a stubborn lass." He said it so merrily that she barely caught the backhanded compliment. She looked quite satisfied with her eyes closing and quiet hum on her breath. He removed the plate and placed it on the narrow table, careful to balance it just right.

She smiled at him, her head tilted back, a near challenge evident in her eyes as he placed a hand on either side of her face and kissed her deeply, tasting the sweetness and saltiness of their breakfast on her lips. His breathing quickened easily, though the kisses themselves were slow and almost sloppy in their intensity. She crawled up to straddle his lap, the sheet falling about her as she did.

His hands trailed from her face, one cupping her left breast with a gentle palm and the other digging into her blonde hair. He had not meant to start this again, as their night had already been a series of interrupted naps that resulted in their bodies needing more than just the casual caress. He'd already determined that she was not worth missing even for a second. So when she pulled away from him, smirking at the way his body leaned to chase her, he practically growled with protest.

"I need a shower," she declared, sliding off of him. He was ready to deny that, but he did not have a chance before she added more. "So do you."

"Inviting me to join you, love?"

She shrugged, the sheet trailing behind her and covering precious little. "I only have one shower," she explained. "And if we plan to get out of here today…"

She smiled and walked the few steps into the bathroom. He leapt to his feet and quickly fell into step behind her. He rubbed her shoulders and back as she busied herself adjusting the water temperature in the shower. Satisfied with it, she stepped into the shower and ducked under the spray, leaning back slightly and letting the water soak her hair. She felt Killian run his hands through the long mane – pulling her out of the stream. His tongue parted her lips and massaging her own – she grabbed him by the back of the head and returned his kiss more forcefully than she had ever kissed him. She felt a strong desire for Killian well up inside her. It was as if the more of him she had, the more of him she needed.

No breaking their kiss, Killian reached behind Emma and grabbed the soap. He lathered it up – and began rubbing her back with the suds – he reached lower and lathered her backside. She broke the kiss and leaned back a little. Killian began washing her breasts – running his hands around each of them then in between and down her belly – over and over again.

"Oh God," she moaned, a bit dazed by his attention. She could not believe how good his touch was. He pushed her up against the tiled wall. Just as she was about to wrap her arms around his neck he knelt down. He guided one of Emma's legs over his shoulder – resting her foot on the side of the tub. He began rubbing between her legs – searching for her clit – finding it he replaced his finger with his tongue.

She hissed, his name chanting out of her mouth without reason or excuse. Her hips involuntarily began rotating against him. He started gently as he had earlier – lapping softly at her moist core as she gripped his hair.

Her compliments to him were mindless and flew from her lips as she sank into his mouth. The spray of the shower was covering both of them. Without even asking he could tell that she was being turned on the sight of him between her legs. He reached up and braced her hip against the wall and gripped the leg that was draped over his shoulder – preparing her for her orgasm – he knew she was close. With more force he began darting his tongue in and out of her – sliding it around her – pushing it against her clit and then back inside her.

Her voice echoed in its scream of satisfaction. He held on to her and felt her body begin to shake – his pace was now furiously quick – he went as fast has he could – tasting her release. He gently swung her leg down – unfolding himself in time to catch her writhing body and hold it up as she felt the aftershocks of her orgasm. She leaned her head into his chest to protect her from the rushing water of the showerhead. She reached down and grabbed him – began guiding him to enter her. Killian quickly understood and pushed her back against the tile again. In one quick thrust he was inside of her.

He placed one hand between the small of her back and the wall as he began thrusting into her. Again, she matched his pace. She held onto him as tight as she could – her nails digging into his skin.

He was attempting to prolong things, gently pushing into her instead of fully thrusting. She encouraged him for more, her requests echoing off the walls. With that Killian's thrusts came so quick and frenzied that Emma had to reach and brace herself behind her head so that it would not slam against the cold hard tile.

His voice joined hers in the reverberated symphony, admitting that he had spent more than a few morning showers imagining her. Her next orgasm was just subsiding as she felt him empty into her. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly as he withdrew from her.

***AAA***

Killian stayed into the afternoon, leaving when her demeanor changed and her desire to get some house work and errands completed on what was turning into a lazy Sunday. There might be cracks in the walls that she had built, but they were not demolished by any stretch of the imagination. As had become their norm, the kisses goodbye became an overwhelming need that neither were really eager to finish.

"I will see you soon, love," he said holding her hands in his between them. She looked a little hopeful, which he appreciated. "Perhaps you would permit me to take you sailing about the harbor area? I think you might enjoy it."

She cracked a small smile. "I have been sailing before, you know? It is certainly nice, but it isn't it getting a bit cold?"

"You think I couldn't keep you warm?" he asked, the waggle of his eyebrows making her giggle. "I promise you will enjoy it."

Emma nodded, closing the distance one more time and finally retreating back into her apartment where she threw herself onto the softness of her sofa with a dramatic flop. Just as she had suspected, her phone was full of texts from both Ruby and Mary Margaret. The teacher wanted to rehash the dinner and offer her opinion on why she should not let Killian get away. Ruby's texts were more blunt such as why one of the wait staff had delivered breakfast for two to the accented man at Emma's own apartment. With a resigned sigh, she answered both of them in the reserved way that she was known for with vague yet friendly answers. Both swore they would be by for a cup of coffee and some gossip soon.

True to their words, Ruby and Mary Margaret showed up though with very different offerings to a little girl talk. Mary Margaret brought a bottle of wine and seemed quite a bit more delicate with her questions, while Ruby brought tequila and got to the heart of the matter.

"I hate to tell you this," Ruby said, sitting sideways in Emma's overstuffed chair with her legs thrown over one arm and her head resting on the other side. "But you look happy. I know that's not your style, but it is pretty obvious." Mary Margaret nodded.

Emma rolled her eyes, sipping on a glass of Mary Margaret's wine. "I have smiled on occasion. It's not like I've never had amazing sex before." She pursed her lips as the two women giggled and exchanged notes at Emma's admission. "I just don't want to screw this up."

"You won't," Mary Margaret added encouragingly, waving off the interruption from Ruby. "I can tell you like him and he is crazy about you. He was absolutely adorable. Every time you spoke, his eyes lit up. I thought he might melt when you took his hand as you guys were leaving. You both clearly are into each other and I think he's not going to disappear or run out no matter how prickly you get."

Again, the blonde rolled her eyes dramatically at the idea. "I'm not that bad, but my track record does kind of suck."

Ruby's shoes were dangling from her toes as she laid in the chair. "At the risk of sounding like Mary Poppins, I mean Mary Margaret over there, I'm going to say this one time. Maybe you and Killian are right for each other. You don't have to make it work with every guy out there. Maybe he's the one you're supposed to make it work with." She regarded the shocked expressions on both of the other women's faces, taking another gulp of her drink. "Shit! That did not sound like me at all."

Both other women laughed at the appalled state of their friend as she practically looked as though she wanted to spit to rid herself of the positive words. "We won't tell anyone," Mary Margaret told Ruby, reaching out from her seat on the couch to pat the woman's leg consolingly. "Nobody will know you have a bit of a romantic in you too."

The teacher swirled her wine as though it wasn't the bargain stuff that she had picked up at the grocery store. "I know you are going to hate this question," she said, looking warningly at Ruby not to interrupt again. "But what now? Where are you wanting to go from here?"

"That's the million dollar question," Emma admitted, readjusting her stance so that her legs folded under her bottom. "He said he wants to take me sailing."

Different as they were, the two friends smiled. "That sounds hot," Ruby enthused. "The motion of the ocean and all that." However, Mary Margaret simply said it sounded very romantic.

***AAA***

Emma hoped that her face was not red as it felt warm that Monday as she sat in the booth that Killian had procured for them prior to either of them having to go to work. She was not usually the type to speak of missing a man or wanting someone's company, but she had to admit that Sunday night felt a bit lonely after her friends had left. She had found herself staring into the darkness with a dull ache as she cradled a pillow in her arms and breathed in the scent of him. Damn him and his ability to wind his way into her life even with his cologne.

She had not even felt that surprised when his text came through to tell her that he missed her. She had been loath to respond, but she had and honestly at that in her own way.

 **Emma: I might miss you too.**

 **Killian: Such strong words there. Careful now. I might think you liked me.**

She worried for a moment that he might be serious about his doubt, her mind considering that he might not realize she did have feelings for him. Then his next text came through and put her at ease.

 **Killian: Still marveling over the fact you are in my life.**

While she had not wanted to seem needy, she had jumped at his invitation for breakfast and even suffered the comments from Granny when the two of them kissed at the diner. The old woman might have said a few things, but her eyes sparkled with delight at her granddaughter's friend and then warningly at Killian as though to remind him that she would hurt him if any harm came to Emma. However, her attention was quickly turned to the newspaper as it was delivered. A front page story on Graham declared that he was a candidate.

"Did you know?" Killian asked when they had both read the article over the older woman's shoulder. "I wonder…"

"He told me he was considering it," she said. "He even said he was sure he was going to do it. I just didn't think he would go through with it." She frowned as she slid back into her seat. David's face came to mind as she thought about the situation. "I should have said something to David."

"Love, he's a grown man. I hardly think he would run for public office if he was afraid of losing. That's a bit of the point of an election? Beating someone out for the job?" While she was used to him in his more casual clothes, his starched white shirt with a thin blue line and matching blue tie were a nice combination. She even remembered to tell him that.

"It's hard," she mused, twirling the plastic straw around the glass of water she had ordered along with a cup of hot chocolate. "I'm friends with Graham and David's like my brother. I hate this. I don't want them to have to compete. I don't want things to be awkward."

"They are both grown men," Killian noted. "It's hardly going to turn into a knock down, drag out race over something as simple as sheriff. A few days after the election everyone will forget." He spooned a bit of the sugar onto his pancakes. "Did you ever think of running?"

She looked over the rim of her mug at him, giving him her best I hope you are right expression. "I would never do that," she said, wrinkling her nose. "I have too much of a history and hardly want that dragged out for everyone to know and gossip over. They can have it. I'm content in my role at the station."

"As long as you are," he said quietly. "I was thinking this weekend might be a good time for our sailing trip," he said, adding more fruit on top of his pancakes that were stacked as a tower. "Weather reports are looking good and we could certainly see some of the fall color along the coast." His face fell as she hesitated, her fork poised over her own plate.

"I sort of have plans for Saturday," she mentioned reluctantly. "It's, well…"

"I understand," he said with a frown. "I didn't mean to presume that you would be free. Of course you have your own life…" He shifted uncomfortably. "Another time, maybe?"

She smiled faintly, grateful that he was being understanding. "It's not that I don't want to…" Taking in a deep breath, she placed her fork back on the plate with a thud. "Saturday is my birthday. Ruby and Mary Margaret and I usually head out of town for a girls' trip to celebrate our birthdays. I don't like to make a big deal of it, but it's kind of tradition."

His face lit up at her, reaching out a hand to her wrist and waiting until she lifted her eyes to make contact again. "I didn't realize it was your birthday, love," he said fondly. "Of course, go and celebrate with your friends. I will entertain myself and think of ways to celebrate you upon your return."

She laughed uneasily. "You don't have to do anything," she said. "I don't even know if Mary Margaret and Ruby will be available. It's just something we usually do."

"Emma, your birthday is a special day for you and certainly for all your friends and those who care about you. Enjoy it." His thumb ran in a circle along her pulse. "Is there something in particular that you would like for your birthday? I should like a hint, darling."

Her eyes fluttered as she rolled them, leaning back against the cushion of the seat. "I don't want a thing," she said. "I really don't like to celebrate it."

He smiled a bit sadly. "Then I'll have to come up with a way to distract you from festivities," he offered. "Maybe we can concentrate on Halloween? You do like to celebrate that?"

"Costumes and candy?"

He grinned at her assessment on the holiday. "I was thinking a dark and haunted house where I could hold you and get scared of all the bloody monsters jumping out at us, but we can do it your way too."

***AAA***

David attempted to massage his own shoulders, rolling his neck and cursing the modern lighting that the mayor had approved for this building. It provided very little light to read by and created an office of hunchbacks with the way they had to sit to read any of the faded documents because the copier drank toner like a starving man in the desert.

"I take it you heard," Emma said, moving his jacket from the guest chair and sitting with her arms and legs crossed in the hard plastic furniture. "Graham said…"

"I take it you knew," he said, mimicking her cadence of speech. "Sorry. It's a free country and he's welcome to run. I just hate being the fool."

"You're not a fool," she said, twisting and untwisting her fingers. "You know I support you, right? You're a great sheriff and I know this is important to you and your dad." She frowned as she again realized that supporting her friend and boss meant that she wasn't supporting Graham. It felt like such an either/or thing and left her wishing that she was better at decisions. She also wished that she had never registered to vote.

"My father is in planning mode," he said dully. "Before it was just a social thing for him, but now…well, he's in full attack mode. He wants to hire a campaign consultant. He wants to hire speechwriters and fundraising experts. Imagine if I lose."

She sympathized, as she knew that Mr. Nolan did not take any prisoners when it came to the family name or ambition. He would do everything in his power to remove whatever threat Graham posed, thinking nothing of hurting the man's career or chances. "I know I'm not a good one to say this since family isn't really my thing," Emma said carefully. "It's just that I wonder if maybe it might be time to tell your father to back off."

Raking a hand from his forehead over his hair, David groaned. "You think I don't know that I have to do that? You think I want that man making every single decision in my life? I just want to do my job, marry my girlfriend, have a few kids, and live my life. I don't want to be a part of an empire or a kingdom or whatever he is calling it these days. I don't want a committee of experts being hired to vet every decision in my life. Do you know that he did that? He hired a consultant who wanted to do a focus group on who I would be better suited to be with? There were pie charts! Pie charts, Emma! Never mind that I already found the woman I love. I have a damn ring and everything for her."

Emma again clucked a bit sympathetically at her friend. "I know it is probably really hard for you, but you need to stand up to him. You need to tell him how you feel. The people in this town elected you as sheriff and they will again, but it is about you not your name. You are good at your job. You protect people. They love you for it."

David silently stared at the blinking computer screen for a moment. "I know you're right," he said. "I also know you're not going to tell Mary Margaret I said that about marrying her?"

Emma grinned at him, pretending to mull over her options. "I won't, but will you please ask her soon? I'm tired of her having to wait and expect it."

 _ **Thanks for reading!**_


	9. Chapter 9

**_A/N: I'm sorry this took so long. Some parts of this chapter just didn't want to be written and wouldn't come out for me, but my muse is persistent and I'm doing better now. SO I hope you are still reading and enjoying this story. I will update again soon._**

She wasn't sure if she was supposed to be happy about it or upset that he distinctly disregarded her request to ignore her birthday. But when she woke up that morning to a present by her door and a covered breakfast with a note that said, "Just wishing you the happiest of Thursdays," she couldn't help but smile at his persistence and thoughtfulness. There were no cakes or candles. There were no cards or funny hats. Even the bag and tissue wrappings of her present were rather nondescript.

 **Emma: I think I have a stalker.**

 **Killian: Do you require protection? I would think you are better at such things, but I don't mind trying.**

 **Emma: I was hoping you could help identify him. You were by my apartment this morning to drop off breakfast and a present?**

 **Killian: I only saw a dashing rapscallion of a man who was trying to brighten your day, love.**

 **Emma: Interesting. I didn't know I had a mirror in the hallway. You are the only dashing rapscallion I know.**

 **Killian: I'm glad this is over text. I might be blushing here.**

 **Emma: Don't tell me I have found the secret to making Killian Jones blush. That might be the best present of all.**

 **Killian: Use it wisely. If I promise no cakes or candles to burn out, could I perhaps buy you dinner?**

 **Emma: I'll have to check with that stalker, but I think I'm free.**

Emma giggled aloud, surprising even herself in the empty apartment at her giddiness. With a reluctant promise to save the present to open in front of him later, she ended the conversation to go take her shower and ignore his response that she was a tease for telling him such a thing.

Birthdays weren't that special for her, but she did kind of like the way that Killian wanted to celebrate hers. Growing up, they were reminders that she was essentially alone and clearly on a time limit for the support she would get. Each birthday meant less of a chance of being chosen and more of a reality that her childhood was never going to be one of carefree moments and possibilities.

She hugged her arms around herself as she waited on the water to warm. Ruby and Mary Margaret had found out about her birthday a few years before. They had not taken no for an answer, dragging her out and making her forget that she was another year older. They did not ask questions of her about her parents like some people did. They just accepted her. And as much as she had thought it impossible, Killian seemed to do that too.

She made her way through her usual morning routine, taking time to eat from the plate he had brought by, and even managed to grab a banana from his breakfast present and some coffee for later on her way out the door to work. It seemed that ignoring her wishes regarding her birthday was the norm, as even her desk was decorated with balloons, banners, and confetti by Robin and David, bear claws and other sweets were provided by Graham, and John managed to change her phone to ring Happy Birthday every time she received a call.

"I'm plotting all your deaths," she muttered between bites of breakfast pastry that was way too much on her full stomach. "I said no birthday stuff." Her eyes scanned the cards on her desk, including some from frequent visitors to the station's two jail cells. Mary Margaret had chosen to have flowers delivered and Ruby provided a gift basket of some of her grandmother's best recipes to sample.

"I thought we could have a department lunch in honor of your day," David said after Robin and John sang through their own rendition of a birthday greeting. Team bonding and all that."

She furrowed her brows at him, licking a bit of icing off her lips. "Last time you said that you wanted us to start a bowling league. Robin had to remind you that we were neither overweight nor middle aged."

David's laugh was louder than necessary as he perched on the edge of the desk to the side of hers, his hands resting just over his hips and leather belt. "I could call it a mandatory meeting if that would make you feel any better, but we're still celebrating."

"If you have the wait staff come out and sing some cheesy version of happy birthday, I'm going to kill each of you in some long and painful process," she warned as David dodged his way to the glass enclosed office that was his with his exasperated way of saying her name that reminded her of high school. When she had lived with Ruth and David, she would tell the two of them that she wasn't going to school because she had no way to complete the family genealogy project or that the summer program was not possible for her because she should be working to earn money for after graduation. He would say her name in that same exasperated tone as his mother made things work out for the young blonde teenager.

Graham hung back as Robin and John both argued over a radio call about one of Robin's childhood friends having broken into the library again. It seemed a normal occurrence for the man who claimed it to be the best place to sleep off a hangover. The town's librarian no longer panicked over seeing his lanky form sprawled out, but only called the department for assistance moving him before any of the patrons found him.

"So much for a quiet birthday," Graham said, his own form lurking by the doorway while the others had insisted on embarrassing Emma.

"I kind of expected as much," Emma retorted flippantly. "Birthdays are a big deal to David. He won't let one just pass by even if you do ask him for that respect."

Graham's beard looked a bit thicker that morning and his hand scratched at it as if to ensure that it was still there. "I do wish you a happy birthday," he said, dropping a folded card onto her desk. I just don't think it is the wisest thing to join the group for lunch with everything…"

Understandingly, Emma nodded her head slowly. "The newspaper seems to be eating up this whole internal competition thing for the election. I guess it is to be expected."

"I guess," he added. "I swore to David it would not interfere with my work here. He's the sheriff and I take my orders directly from him. It's the socializing that is a bit trickier."

She pinched her lips together, looking at him carefully. "Does that mean you won't be attending the fundraiser for David's campaign?" She knew he wouldn't. That would be quite awkward. She and Robin had already talked about just how thick the air was lately since the qualifying announcements were made. It would hardly be appropriate no matter what the circumstances for one candidate to attend the other's fundraising event.

"I don't think that would be a great idea," he said with a humble shrug. "I was wondering though. I am assigned to the mayor's detail for the weekend. If you are going to the party, I was hoping you might be able to…"

Emma's brows furrowed. "You want me," she said, clarifying his request, "to spend my time on my day off at a party watching and protecting the mayor who half the time can't remember my name. You must be joking."

"It's too much to ask," he answered quickly, the color rushing to his cheeks. "It's just that I thought it might be awkward. And even more so for Robin since they…"

"Is that even confirmed?" Emma asked, eyeing him carefully. Regina was not a woman who liked her business on display. She was usually quite cold and calculating when it came to her role as mayor and kept her romantic life pretty much a secret. However, there were of course rumors as to her relationships, including most recently with Robin.

"You forget," Graham said. "I've been there. I was…involved…with her myself."

Emma wrinkled her nose again. "What about John? Why can't he…"

Looking appalled, Graham settled his hands with his palms down on the desk and leaned forward over them. "John is not really trained or ready for the task. You know Regina and what she is like. She eats guys like John for breakfast. You can stand up to her."

Emma rolled her eyes. "You know just because you and now it seems that Robin are not immune to her charms doesn't mean that John would fall the same way. She's going to be busy with the party and Mr. Nolan. Mayor or not, she needs his support to keep this city running. You and I both know that the city was short on funds just a few months ago and Mr. Nolan's visit to her office resulted in an infusion of funds that has never been explained. I don't think it is a coincidence."

The money situation was never considered illegal, only a bit shady on the part of the administration and suspicious in the eyes of those who wondered where the tax dollars were going. "I guess we should be grateful for small favors," he said a bit sarcastically. "She should really get her own detail instead of that weasely lad if she is that worried."

It was unspoken, especially after Emma had confronted him on it, but Graham had also had a bit of a relationship with Regina. He had originally started his career being security for her. She had recommended him for his current position, something that he had admitted during a marathon drinking session had bothered him. Like Emma, he tried hard to prove his own worth and abilities on a daily basis.

"I doubt that will happen with you and Robin always willing – that is until now." She sighed. "I really don't want security detail this weekend. It's bad enough that my girls' day plans have to be cut short by this stupid event, but now you want me to work at it?" Her mouth drew in as if eating a sour lemon. "I have to deal with Mr. Nolan and whichever wife or wannabe at the moment. I can't deal with Regina Mills too."

"I understand," he said, looking reluctantly at David's office. "Think he'll mind my attending?"

***AAA***

She couldn't help but grin as he spread the supper selections on her folding table, stealing a kiss or two as he did so. "You said you did not want that big of a deal or a fancy meal so I compromised."

"Grilled cheese? Tomato soup? Really?" It was a meal she would have picked out for an evening in front of Netflix and guzzling a bottle of wine. It wasn't date food by any stretch of the imagination. If he pulled out hot dogs or potato chips, she was going die of laughter.

"Don't forget the onion rings," he chided easily, dumping the containers onto her mismatched plates and attempting to make the comfort food look even fancier. It wasn't much of an effort, but it was appreciated and noted as Emma swiped one of the battered rings.

"Not planning on any kisses?" she said, scrunching her face as though she disliked the idea. "I mean onions and all?"

He chuckled, placing each palm on her hips and pulling her into him. She was still holding have of the onion ring she had swiped, providing him the opportunity to nibble off a piece of it. "I should think we will both be sporting the onion breath so neither of us will be offended by the other." Her eyebrows raised incredulously at his comment. "Or you could have them and I will forgo them and ignore your onion breath."

She snorted her reply before he brushed his lips against hers, his still turned up in a saucy grin. "I think we'll be okay if we both eat them," she said.

True to his word, he didn't mention her birthday at all, though she was not as upset about it as she had been in previous years. The guys at work had been insistent that she celebrate and made lunch a fun outing for them. So curling up on her couch with Killian and her favorite comfort foods was not sounding horrific. In fact, she surprised herself with how comfortable it all was.

The television hummed along one of her favorite childhood movies as the remnants of dinner surrounded them. Her legs were thrown over his as his arm draped over them and his fingers traced out patterns on the denim covered appendages. They were both laying their heads on a shared cushion and laughing over funny bits of the movie and shared memories.

She watched as he turned his head slightly to catch a moment of action on screen, noting his perpetually tousled hair that was one of her favorite features. He always seemed to run his hands through it in a nervous tic along with the way he scratched behind his ear. Fingers at the nape of his neck, she smoothed and ruffled the dark hair in an ongoing pattern. While he said nothing of it, he tilted his head more in her direction, giving her a silent cue as to his pleasure.

"Did you have a bad day?" she asked, studying the circles under his eyes and the clue of his hair having been a victim of his hand more than normal. "I mean did anything…"

"Just a tough potential sale that took up the better part of two days only for the man to say a decision has been postponed for a few months." He grinned. "But that all seems unimportant right now."

She squinted at him, keeping her hand at that spot on his neck and using her other to cover over his on her thigh. "You can tell me when you are," she said with a shrug that negated a bit of the awkwardness she felt. "You're always trying to get me to open up to you, but you know that you can talk to me too…"

His eyes closed momentarily and his head lolled over to her arm on the back of the couch. "I'll keep that in mind," he said. Those blue eyes opened slowly and surely, looking at her with careful appraisal. "Did you peek at your present since you wouldn't open it without me?"

"I don't need presents," she said in mild protest, though the package had been near her all day and driving her a bit mad with want of it.

"Then you won't be disappointed if I failed to capture exactly what you want," he said, his eyebrow arched as she lazily reached for the side table behind her and tugged the gift bag toward her, dropping it in her own lap. "You are difficult to buy for, love."

"More so when I tell you not to," she muttered. With that one hand still at the nape of his neck, she removed the tissue paper one piece at a time. His nearly silent grumbles that she was taking too bloody long made her laugh and for a moment wonder if he would make the same complaints on Christmas morning. The thought that she had just naturally gone there in her mind did not escape her attention. However, she was hopeful that she masked over what was probably an expression of panic that was boiling under the surface.

From the expectant look on his face, one would have assumed that he was the one opening the present. His eyes stayed locked on hers and his lips trembled a bit as she finally unearthed it.

Pulling out a small teddy bear, she seemed slightly surprised at perhaps the simplicity of the gesture. Her mouth was already forming a thank you for the white and furry present that might have been more appropriate for someone younger. However, his hand closed over it and his fingers touched the red ribbon around the bear's neck and that's when she saw the shining item circling it.

"Is that?" she asked, her fingers splaying over the fur to show a simple silver chain and an opal and diamond charm hanging from it.

"Your birthstone," he said, confirming. "I thought I should get you something associated with the day. "I knew you weren't too big on ornate, but I hoped this would be appropriate?" His voice sounded slightly hesitant as she ran another finger over the stones.

"It's beautiful," she said, breathing out the words. "It's been a long time since...Thank you." She almost brought up the last person who had given her a necklace. It had been a keychain originally, a cheap trinket that had been stolen rather than purchased. And yet it had remained a possession that she most associated with that time. That and her car.

Working together, they freed it from around the bear's neck and he tugged her forward. "May I?" She nodded slowly, pulling her hair aside and up with her hands as he fastened it around her neck, turning the charm in his hand and letting it settle there as he looked at her eyes. "Happy birthday."

***AAA***

It wasn't the chime of her phone bleating out an alert about a text message that woke Emma, her naked form next to his in a loose and comfortable embrace on her bed. She was already awake and staring up at the ceiling with unblinking eyes. She was trying to replace the nervousness in her, that natural state of her being that said something bad would happen because she was too happy, with contentedness. She was content, she thought. She was actually happy.

The phone sounded again and Emma reached for it clumsily, not wanting her screening to inadvertently waken Killian. He was sleeping soundly, his bottom lip pouting in its natural state. Shielding the light of the phone's screen with her hand, she read the messages from David and frowned at his insistence. He should have been asleep, not reading newspapers that were better for listing yard sales than actual journalism. But the curiosity got to her and she tapped the link. Shit!

She could hear the soft breathing that seemed to beguile his usual intensity, the darkened room giving her only a glimpse of his profile. Sliding out from under his arm and replacing her own body with a pillow, she crept toward the kitchen with a shirt she found on the floor covering her and pondered her possibilities. Everyone had done such a great job of erasing the fact that it had been her birthday that she had hardly found the time to dwell on things like she usually did.

Next to where he was sleeping there was a box of those memories, details of the aspects of her life that had helped form her into the person she was now. Just under a layer of scarves and assorted items in the drawer, it held just a few items that she had managed to hang onto in her life. It was just a cigar box, a cardboard vessel for things that cost little but were valuable to her. In past years she had been known to sit with that box on her birthday and a bottle of usually cheap wine and pretend that she wasn't replaying those moments.

She knew that in her state of nostalgia that she wouldn't get back to sleep and considered that a blessing in some ways. Sleep and dreams seemed to make the ache within her memories even stronger. While the ticking time clock of foster care had been a center point of her birthdays, even worse was the fact that it was the day her parents had chosen to abandon her. She had given up such notions that they might wonder where she was or ponder her well-being. Did they even remember her?

She wasn't bitter about it, understanding a bit more now after her own experiences. Sighing, she told herself not to think about it. She didn't want to remember the rest. So she bent her head over the phone in her hand and read the article that David hand linked for her.

Killian half staggered into the living area of Emma's apartment, his eyes searching the space for the blonde woman who should have been in bed beside him at that moment. She had Friday off so there were no pressing engagements that should have had her stirring before the sun even rose in the sky. He saw her there at the kitchen table, her finger scrolling through a page on her phone.

"Is something the matter, love?" he asked, rubbing over his face in an effort to clear his vision and thoughts. "Did you get a call?" He couldn't recall hearing the phone ring, but he hadn't realized she had left the bed either so he wasn't sure about his recall abilities at the moment. His pants hung low on his hips.

"Sort of," she said distractedly. A glass of water was next to her, which seemed odd given the morning hour, but he did not mention it. "Sorry. I was having trouble sleeping and I didn't want to wake you. So I thought I'd come in here, but then I realized the television might…anyway, I was reading the newspaper online and a story upset me." She was rambling and making little sense, but he listened and nodded when she looked at him.

"You didn't know there were…"

"I knew about the rumors," she said, frowning back at her phone. "Doing what we do, people aren't always a fan." She bit down on the corner of her mouth. "You write a ticket for speeding and that person is sure you are trying to meet a quota. Nobody likes to admit they did the wrong thing or get caught, but it's the nature of the beast. It's not always a quota or a conspiracy." She seemed a bit frantic as her lips moved silently, reading the text of the article again.

"Emma, what does the article say?"

"Emma," Killian said with a little trepidation, "I'm sure this story is a blow to David's campaign, but surely you can't think it would destroy him. He's been a great sheriff and has the support of the community. I think he can weather this storm. Nobody would believe he stole anything, let alone that amount of money."

She pinched the bridge of her nose with her finger and thumb. "You don't understand. David will be fine, but I might not be."

"What do you mean? Why would anyone think that you…"

Drawing in a ragged breath, she looked skyward and then back down at the table, studying the cracked surface of the faux leather material. "I haven't always lived in Storybrooke," she said, her voice sounding small. Only the hum of the refrigerator seemed to interrupt the silence. "I went to school here for a few years, lived with David and his mother, and all that." She paused, still not looking up at him.

"I recall you saying that Mrs. Nolan was quite good to you during that time," he said gently, prodding her to say more.

"Ruth was wonderful," the blonde mused. "She was so different that Mr. Nolan, warm, friendly, so caring. I wasn't easy for anyone to love, but she did. She treated me like her own child, but I wasn't ready for that. I ran away from her, from David, and from Storybrooke." Her voice broke as she pictured the older woman's face when she had seen her again, the pain etched there and the worry evident. "I didn't want to be a charity case and that was what people were saying at school. Even grown people in town were commenting. I hated it. So I left."

Killian saw her hand draw away as he reached for it, allowing her to pull into herself without protest from him. "Emma, that must have been hard for you. People can be cruel and thoughtless."

Her lower lip trembled and her eyes rested on the phone's now dark screen. "I didn't leave alone," she said softly. "I left with a guy from here named Neal. He's the son of Mr. Gold." She let the words tumble out. "He was a little like me. He hated it here. People judged him because of who his father was and thought he must be just like him."

Killian nodded, his hands gripping the table edge as though he could sense what was coming.

"He wasn't exactly a bad person," she said, her hand fluttering away the words she wanted to say. "We were both lost and scared. We acted tough, but we weren't, not really. You see when you live like that it is all about opportunities. It's all about surviving. I stole things. It wasn't for a thrill or to try to hurt people. I stole because I was hungry or because I needed it to live."

His face fell, imagining a younger Emma in such a situation. "Nobody would blame you for that," he said. "You stole food and necessities. You didn't hold a place up at gunpoint."

Smiling weakly, she placed the heels of her hands on her thighs. "Neal found a job for a while. We…it doesn't matter. He took some watches. They were going to be our way of getting out of the situation and having a good life. We made plans…" She had always considered herself street smart and strong, but she knew that she had been naïve too. She'd wanted the fairy tale. She'd wanted to live happily ever after, but it didn't happen. "The owner took out a warrant and things got a bit ugly."

She shook her head, thoughts churning as she remembered the hope turned to fear and the cold metal of the handcuffs as she was taken away. "Emma, you don't have to…"

"He left. I was left to face it. I spent some time behind bars," she said so matter of fact that she could have been telling him about the weather. "I came back to Storybrooke after and apologized to Ruth and David. Ruth…she was different, but she helped me finish my GED and then got me into a 2-year college program. David hired me and now…"

"Now you're worried," he surmised. She was waiting on that other shoe to drop. It would. It always did.

She tried to catch her breath, blinking away tears that threatened to fall. "Killian, the reporter is digging. He's looking for a story. He could find out about my past, my record. It doesn't matter that I didn't do this. He could…" She drew back in her chair. "There are so many things people don't know. They wouldn't understand. They would…They would hate me. I can't let this happen. Not again."

He wanted to hold her, to assure her that everything would be alright, but her body seemed closed to him. Arms folded and twisted away from him. "Emma, I can't imagine anyone hating you. And from what you said, I quite admire you more. You've been so strong and tough. I can't imagine anyone else could have turned their life for the better like you have, love. You are simply brilliant. Whatever happens with this investigation and this silly reporter is just another hurdle for you."

"There's more," she said, her eyes watery and sad as she watched him lean toward her. "I was pregnant when I went to jail." The words still hurt to say though she was growing numb to them. "I gave birth to a baby boy."

"Oh Emma," he said, no longer able to resist the urge to at least touch her arm or show his concern.

"He was adopted," she said a sad laugh sounding out of place. "I was given up and abandoned by my parents and here I did the same thing."

"You gave him a chance at a better life. You were young, Emma. You were alone and scared…"

She held up her hand. "I know all that. And on paper it makes sense, but he…he was my son and I made that decision. I never even looked at him. I never held him. I don't even talk about him."

"You don't have to," he said, drawing in his own breath. "I can't pretend to know what you are going through, but I do know you are smart, kind, beautiful, and have a good heart. You gave that baby boy a chance when you could have gone another way. You gave yourself a second chance. You haven't squandered it. And all of us in your life are lucky to know you." His larger hand covered hers, squeezing firmly and digits entwining.

"You aren't running?" she asked, disbelief evident. "I can't imagine this is what you expected to hear this morning. I'm sure there are plenty of women who are easier to deal with and not so filled with drama."

His hand squeezed harder. "You underestimate me, darling," he said, smiling comfortingly. Her guard seemed lowered and he pulled his chair closer to hers. "I quite fancy you more than any other lass I know. I should not want to run unless you chase me." She closed the rest of the distance, leaning into him and letting his arms pull her into this embrace. "I've got you, love." That must have been what she needed to hear, he thought, as he felt deep, racking sobs overtake her. He held her, let her cry the cleansing tears she needed so desperately. He didn't talk, simply rocked her as she let go. When the worst was over she pulled away from him, searching for a tissue from the other side of the table. "Better?" he asked as she turned back around to face him.

"I don't know why," she said with a perplexed expression. "I don't know why I seem to just admit things to you. I can't help it. I feel like you….understand." She dabbed at her eyes with the tissue.

"I'm trying," he admitted, his voice soft and almost just a breath. He watched the pain settle in her eyes, hated himself for not being able to stop it even though he knew it was impossible to avoid. Her soft lips trembled, her teary eyes searched his, her body shivering under his hand. He couldn't stop himself – didn't want to, really. He leaned toward her, his gaze still locked with hers, bent his head down slowly, as always giving her the opportunity to pull away. She didn't. The moment his lips tasted her mouth again, he knew he was lost.

***AAA***

While Mr. Nolan was in his element on the yacht that Killian and Eric had procured for the fundraising event, David looked less comfortable as he tried to look humble and grateful for people's support. Mary Margaret was at his side, her sweet expression unfazed by the insensitive comments from people who were handing over checks for the Nolan campaign.

"It's a party not a firing squad," Ruby commented, leaning toward Emma with her hand wrapped around a champagne flute. The weekend getaway for the girls had been reduced to a spa day and preparation for the fundraiser.

"Same difference," Emma said with mocking shudder. "I would never want this kind of attention."

Killian stood at Emma's left with his hand on her lower back, the pads of fingers touching the skin where her red dress dipped provocatively. She had not been too sure about the dress, but his reaction upon seeing her told her that she was right to choose it. The breeze blowing off the water made it a bit too cold for the thin material, but she was happily content with keeping warm with Killian.

Ruby exchanged a few more words with the two of them before saying she should be scuttling off to find her date for the evening, some writer who seemed to have a penchant for strong coffee at Granny's. The woman had left him alone long enough, she told them with a laugh. "I don't want him to get a wandering eye. After all, I spent a boat load on this dress and I want to see if I look as good as my mirror seemed to indicate." She twirled in a circle with her arms up. Two men stopped in their tracks to stare at her as she giggled. "Yep, it's a keeper."

Killian looked amused as the dark haired woman swooped in and kissed Emma's cheek. "Later!" she said with a laugh and wave.

"I like your friends," Killian said as the tornado that was Ruby left their ear shot. "She's quite the character."

"I like her too," Emma agreed, nodding.

"This wasn't what I imagined when I said I wanted to take you sailing," Killian teased as they found them themselves alone for a moment. "I hope you're still going to let me."

Raising the crystal flute to her lips, Emma nodded. She still had a hard time in her mind, reconciling that she was actually involved with someone who thought that she mattered. Typically she would have come to one of these events alone, drinking a little with Ruby and shooting sympathetic looks to Mary Margaret before making an early exit with an excuse about a headache or an early morning. So to be there with a date was an unfamiliar sensation.

That did not mean it was completely comfortable. There were moments when she had to introduce him when she did not know what to call him and other moments when she wondered if he was as aware as she was at people looking and shooting her questioning glances. He seemed to take it in stride though, smiling warmly at the people who greeted them and managing to convince her to dance when the live band started up.

They weren't all strangers to Killian, who knew many of the well to do donors. He easily introduced Emma as a friend, which was self-explanatory with his arm about her and the obvious affection he showed her. He laughed with the local college's polo coach about some match that had been on one of the upper cable channels and with the owner of a tour cruise company about the possibilities for expansion. Emma could see from his demeanor that he must be quite a sales person, holding court with these people and offering tidbits of advice that they seemed eager to follow up on mixed with the conversational tone.

"You're good at that," Emma complimented when he had promised some older man a tour of their refinishing facility and the man happily scampered back to his wife with plans and an excited look about the privilege. "You must do well at your job."

He shrugged. "My brother," he said with a small smile, "taught me about getting people to do as you want. It's quite an easy skill to master once you are familiar with it and one that I enjoy employing." He pulled her to him, anchoring her hip with his hand as they walked to the buffet that had been set up along one side of the yacht.

"Is that what you use on me?" she asked as they made their way to the end of the tables. "Some ninja mind tactics to make me want to keep seeing you?"

He chuckled at her wide eyed question. "I've been meaning to ask you the same question, love. You might consider a career in sales if you have such natural skills because I seem to be unwilling and unable to refuse you." His eyes sparkled with amusement as she blushed.

"That's an example right there, isn't it?" she said, grabbing one of the plates to prepare for herself. "Turning it around on me so I get flustered and forget that I asked you to begin with."

He reached around her to grab his own, lingering near her ear briefly. "Did it work?"

The buffet was overflowing with seafood and locally harvested vegetables, which most of the attendees were piling high on their plates. It seemed a bit counter intuitive to Emma to spend so much on details like this for a fundraiser, but she supposed it was the tactic that one did not want to look like he or she was begging. The two of them found a seat at one of the smaller tables, nibbling on the delicious fare as Killian attempted to explain the nuances and features of the yacht to Emma and she enjoyed watching him in his element.

"You would like one like this?" she asked when he finished his explanation on the boat's engine and its sustainability.

"No," he answered quickly as if she had asked about purchasing a run down life raft. "I prefer a vessel for both utility and for pleasure. Something like this is purely a pleasure with very little function other than impressing a beautiful woman or clients." He huffed a bit. "I would own one smaller, sleeker, and far more beautiful when at sea." He continued to describe this as of yet unpurchased dream.

She wasn't sure what all his terminology meant or why such things were that interesting or important, but she could tell that they were to him. His passion was evident and even more so as he talked about previous experiences on such vessels. She couldn't help herself but be caught up in some of his enthusiasm for what was more than a hobby.

A pixie of a woman, blonde and bubbly with a smile that lit up the room, entered the dining area with her own entourage of admirers. Emma's eyes were drawn to her, as were most of the people in the room. That was except for Killian, who kept his eyes down cast on his plate.

The woman waved and half hugged a few of the people in her path, sparkling lusciously as she made her way to her destination. Wearing a short green cocktail dress and heels, she was still shorter than most of the other people in the room, but somehow exuded confidence as she glided effortlessly. She stopped short at Emma and Killian's table, her bow like mouth dropping in surprise. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed. "I haven't seen you in forever." One petite hand reached out to Killian and pulled him up to standing. "You haven't called or even texted in months!"

Killian gave her a curt nod of recognition. "I'm sure you kept yourself occupied."

"But of course," she said, waving that same hand in front of her to show that his absence hadn't bothered her at all. Her teeth flashed in brilliant white as she turned her head to face Emma. While Emma was at least four inches taller, the young woman seemed to tower over her. "I've seen you around. You're like a deputy or something."

Emma's mouth was dry as she bobbed her head as a sign that the woman was correct. "I am," she bit out. "Emma Swan."

"Isabella Greene," the woman said, holding out her hand to her in such a way that Emma wasn't sure if she should shake it or kiss it as she curtsied. "But everyone calls me Tink since Mrs. Gold is the one everyone thinks of when they hear the name Belle."

Killian's mouth turned downward as he stared over her should and shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Tink has been working with a local outreach organization through the church. I didn't realize you were back in town."

"Where have you been?" Emma asked, posing the question easily, she hoped anyway. The awkwardness of sitting as the other two were standing was overwhelming and caused her to rise to her feet.

"All over," she answered breezily. "I work with children who are in orphanages." Emma's stomach dropped, not so much at the connection with her own past but the idea that this woman could be so beautiful, confident, and hold a job that was philanthropic. "Providing programs to build confidence and self-esteem. It's important, you know." She let her hand flutter about the locket she wore. "You have to really give them the confidence and the belief they can fly."

Killian slid a bit closer to Emma, his hand finding hers as she listened to the enthusiastic response of the other blond woman. Tink had missed Emma's expression in talking about these children who had been left orphans by war, disease, and poverty, as well as a few mentions of some who had been abandoned. "It sounds like a wonderful job," Emma said, her voice tight and her hand grasping Killian's a bit harder than normal. "I'm sure you're wonderful at it."

"Oh it's what I'm meant to do," Tink explained. "You should come with me to one of the local homes. They would love to meet someone with such a great job as yourself. And truly you can't understand what it's like to be an orphan until you meet and talk to these kids." She reached into the lace covered bag that matched her dress and pulled out a business card.

"No, you really can't fully understand it," Emma muttered, accepting the card with a half-hearted promise to call the next week before Tink took off for another of her international trips.

"Killian used to visit with some of the boy's in the home the church runs here in Storybrooke. I know he was a great mentor to them. But you know Killian. He's always up for a charity case." She playfully tapped his shoulder, her smile fading as he jumped as though startled by her move. "I should be going. Killian, you should call me some time. I'd love to see you again. Emma? I hope I hear from you soon."

In a wave of curly blonde hair and sweet perfume, the woman was gone as Emma and Killian both muttered their goodbyes to her. Emma let her hand slip from his grip, collapsing back in her chair and staring at the half-eaten plate of food. "She seems nice," she said, knowing she had to say something to assuage the guilt ridden look on his face. His concern was evident too.

"We…we used to date," he confirmed, as if she might not have realized that connection. "About a year ago or so. Not long really. A few dates and parties."

The concern was more evident as he lowered himself into the chair beside her, his head tilted for a better view of her expression. She nodded, turning her fork through the reddish sauce on her plate that she couldn't quite remember the name of though the chef had told her twice. "I kind of gathered there was a connection. She seems nice."

"Emma, I…"

She looked up, blowing out a burst of air to brush back and errant curl that had escaped her braided style. "I don't need an explanation," she said. "I've dated before too. We don't have to disclose everything."

Bobbing his head silently, he bit at the corner of his mouth. "I realize that, love, but I realized as I was seeing your reaction to her that you are quite a bit calmer than I would be if one of your former flames was to present himself to me. It is one thing to know that it occurred and a whole other to see that person." He paused, watching the gears that were clearly turning in her head. "And I know that her comments…"

"She didn't know," Emma asserted firmly. "Not everyone needs to know that I was abandoned on the side of the road. It isn't something that I would put on a t-shirt or bring up when I first meet someone."

"Of course not," he said. "I appreciate how open you've been with me. I realize that it isn't in either of our natures to be that way." He leaned toward her. "I hope you realize that I don't take your openness for granted."

She nodded quickly, pushing the plate back. "I think I need some air," she whispered, slipping out of the chair and rushing toward the deck. Her breath came in short bursts and she did not stop to look behind her until she reached the railing. She tried to stare out at the dark water and find solace in the glassy reflection from the yacht's lights. There was something calming about it, though she wasn't feeling herself breathe any easier. The heels on the decking floor behind her was loud and evident that the mayor was in the vicinity.

"Ms. Swan," Regina said, smiling at the blonde with a bit of confusion. "I thought that Graham was on my detail tonight. It's silly really, but I suppose I can't be too careful."

"He was unable to attend," Emma reminded her, pointing her chin in John's direction. "John's going to watch out for you tonight."

The dark haired woman looked displeased, a frown pinching her features. "Remind me to talk to David about his choices in personnel. I am not impressed."

It was Emma's turn to frown as she watched John shove one of the passed appetizers into his mouth and wipe the crumbs off with his sleeve. Regina could not seriously be upset that the man wasn't using the correct fork. "I don't think you have many choices when it comes to your safety. Graham isn't going to put himself in some awkward situation and Robin was busy."

"So it was either you or John?" The mayor's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Are we that lacking in protection for this town?"

"We aren't lacking," David interrupted, passing both women a glass of champagne. He mentioned to Emma that Killian was talking to a reporter to give a comment about the party. He smiled warmly when she made her excuses to leave the two elected officials. It was clear from his earlier expression that he was wondering about her absence from Killian and what had drawn her out to stare at the water.

She found Killian staring off the railing of the on the other side of the boat, his head down and his hands gripping tightly at the metal. "There you are," she said, resting back against the railing next to him and staring at the other party goers several feet away. "Sorry about before. I just needed a moment."

He shook his head, still not looking up. "Not the cards tonight, love," he said. A silence fell for just a moment before he tightened his grip and then pushed backwards as though he had made some decision not to continue with whatever thoughts had him looking so pensive. "I was going to come look for you, but I wanted to give you a moment."

In a very unEmma like move, she reached her hand out to cup his cheek, watching as his eyes turned to her warily at first and then with a softer expression of concern. "I'm not so fragile that I'll break," she reminded him.

"What if I do?" Killian asked in a quiet voice that could barely be heard over the party.

***AAA***

How long has she been back there?" Emma asked Monday morning, her eyes scanning the print out of calls from overnight. They deputies had learned their lesson quickly after their hire date that one did not let Regina Mills know that you were watching her. Despite the fact that the town's mayor was in a closed door meeting with the sheriff behind a wall of glass, Emma and her co-workers were under strict orders to ignore the visitor to the office. That left them pretending to work and catching only a few words that were loud enough to penetrate.

"Almost two hours," Robin said quietly, his own tactic to stare at a blank computer screen with his hands hovering over the keys. "She's mad."

John scoffed from his location. "How can you tell? I've never known her to be overly friendly."

Robin's reddening cheeks told Emma that the rumors of his involvement with the beautiful brunette were probably more than rumors. "I think it has to do with the article today." He nodded his head toward a folded newspaper at the corner of his desk. It had only been received that morning, but already there were coffee rings and what appeared to be two phone numbers scribbled on the printed pages.

She slid it out the paper and glanced at the headline. Sidney, the newspaper's editor and only real reporter since mostly he just hired interns, was known for his sensationalism. This headline made her stomach drop as it essentially detailed the missing funds and a connection with the sheriff's department. "This is not good," she whispered. From the corner of her eye she could see a well-manicured finger wagging in front of David's face. His expression stoic, but his foot tapping in a fast tempo under the desk.

"Don't look," Robin hissed. "She won't be happy we're gossiping."

"We're not gossiping," she reminded him, placing the report over the newspaper and scanning through it again. There were the typical calls, nothing extraordinary. "Where's Graham?"

John scoffed again, earning a glare from the other two. "Oh come on! Graham announces he's running for sheriff against David and the same week there is a story about mismanagement of funds. Graham is probably drinking a cold one with Sidney right now in celebration. He had to have won a few points with that mess being front page. People aren't going to think David is innocent after all this."


	10. Chapter 10

"I thought you might appreciate a case where you didn't have to consult with the guys," David told her, the dark under his eyes even more evident under the florescent lights. "It's a missing persons case, but honestly I don't suspect foul play."

Emma sat there in the hard chair, mulling over his statement as if there was some hidden meaning behind it. David had not been in the office all that much, relegating to emailing their assignments in shortened sentences and telling them that he was busy or dealing with personal matters instead of being there in front of them. If she looked at his desk, she might have seen the fine layer of dust that had accumulated with lack of use. He was clearly avoiding the questions that hung silently in the air.

"Her parents declared her missing?" Emma asked, scanning the yellow legal pad that he had made notes on his phone call. The chicken scratch handwriting was hard to read, but she was used to it.

"Sister," he corrected from memory. "A woman named Elsa. She said that her sister and her sister's fiancé have been missing for more than a week. She had hoped that they might have just run off to elope, but that is looking less likely. No notes. No ransom demands and no contact with her sister." His hands were at his hips, his classic pose of authority. "Elsa seems like a piece of work. She's uptight and demanding, but you can tell she loves her sister."

"I guess I'll pay this Elsa a visit then," Emma said, closing the pages of the legal pad and extracting herself from the seat. "Sounds like if she's that uptight and demanding that this sister of hers might have run off to get away from her for a while."

"Don't judge too quickly," he warned, shoulders slumping forward a bit. "And I guess I owe you a thank you. I know that the rumors are pretty bad right now. I assure you that I did not take that money. I would never…"

"Never thought you would," Emma interrupted, tapping her pen on the legal pad. "I know you didn't have anything to do with that. I just hope they find who did before any more names get dragged through the mud. You don't think it will hurt you in the election, do you?"

David nodded, knowing that she was nervous about her own past coming into play. "My father is strategizing day and night to prevent that from happening. He thinks it might help to deflect some of the attention somehow."

Swallowing, she considered that advice. "He knows about my past, doesn't he?" she asked softly. "If people know that, they will think that I had something to do with it."

"My father wouldn't throw you under the bus like that," David said hastily. "The man's a jerk and probably one of the most calculating people, but he's not…he just wouldn't. I wouldn't let him. That whole thing was a mistake. If it was to come out, we'd have to confront the whole Neal issue, which means bringing out the big guns of Mr. Gold. I seriously doubt my father is cocky enough to think that would be a good idea."

"God, I must sound horrible. This isn't all about me. What is he suggesting as this diversion?" She bit her lip, knowing that the next article in the Mirror would probably be even worse. Sidney had been asking a lot of questions, including of people who were normally in the know.

David sighed, his eyes darting downward. "I had asked about my grandmother's ring for Mary Margaret. I thought the gesture would be something she could appreciate until we chose something together. He wants to turn it into a public relations event. He suggested holding a press conference to announce my fighting these allegations and proposing to her during that." He frowned. "Sort of cheapens it, doesn't it?"

"I'd say." David rarely asked for advice from her, seeming to usually have it together. "I guess we all consider it a given that you two are going to end up together, but seriously. You can't use it for publicity though. I mean it is a marriage proposal not a staged event." She knew that Mary Margaret would be crushed if he did that.

"I wouldn't do it just to get positive news out there," he said disdainfully. "I would never hurt her that way. I love Mary Margaret and have spent our entire relationship trying to prove to her that I do and keep her protected from my father. I can't even believe he'd suggest this."

Emma frowned, the pad of paper warping under her grip. "Maybe it's time that you put a little distance between you and your father. I know you rely on him about all this campaign stuff, but he doesn't actually respect you. You could do this without him." David said nothing and Emma sighed in response to his silence. "I've overstepped. I'm sorry. You know I'm the last one you want to ask about parent child relationships. I just know that Mary Margaret wants the fairy tale, which doesn't include cameras, reporters, and press releases."

His smile seemed relieved. "You're right," he agreed. "Mary Margaret deserves more than that. I'm going to make sure that my proposal to her will be everything she wants and more." He motioned his hand to shoo her from the office. "You're turning into a romantic there, Emma. People are going to talk."

She wrinkled her nose. "No, I'm not."

His head tilted sideways as if he was trying to view her from a different angle. "I think you are," he protested. "You're different. I think it might be this thing with Killian."

Rolling her eyes, she turned on her heel and marched to the door. "Don't be spreading rumors about me," she said. "I won't like it."

***AAA***

"You're young," the platinum blonde haired woman said with her discerning eyes narrowing to inspect Emma. "Have you ever done something like this before?"

"I'm quite adept at finding people," Emma insisted, sitting in the large and formal living room where Elsa's assistant had led her. "It's a talent."

Elsa hummed her response as she added a bit of sugar to her tea and stirred it meticulously. "I'm not quite sure I buy that, but I'm desperate. This isn't like Anna at all. Yes, she's impulsive and lacks judgment, but she's never been known to just run off."

The room was ornately decorated with antiques and items that were clearly authentic from the Scandinavian regions. Plush rugs sat under velvety chairs and settees. Artwork depicting generations of the family hung from the walls over rich wallpaper. A fire blazed in the fireplace and gave both warmth and glow to the whole room. A polished silver service had been placed on etched tray and sat between the two women on a tufted ottoman.

"When was the last time you saw her?" Emma tried to ignore the fact that Elsa had already insulted her age and experience twice. The two women were the same age though Elsa seemed a bit removed from the normal chaos of the late 20s. "Was there anything that stood out as unusual?"

"She was in good spirits," Elsa mused, sipping delicately on her tea and settling the cup back in its saucer before speaking again. "I saw her at the dedication to the new art gallery wing that was named in memory of our parents. We didn't have much time to talk between the speeches, photo ops, interviews, and having to talk with each of the donors and friends of our parents."

"So nothing stood out? How was she with her fiancé? Were they getting along?"

Elsa's pinched expression was the same as one of the women in the portrait over the fireplace. When she had caught Emma admiring it earlier, she had commented that it was of her mother and two aunts. The family resemblance was uncanny.

"I suppose so," Elsa said. "Kris is a bit of a brute in so many ways. He's not really…he's a bit beneath her, but he loves her dearly. He's one of the few good decisions my sister has made in her life." She laughed. "I can't imagine that he would encourage her to run away when she has responsibilities here."

"Responsibilities?" Emma parroted, looking back at her notepad for any sign of what those might be since it appeared that Elsa was clearly the woman in charge. The girls were the only heirs and daughters of their parents who had owned and operated ski resorts throughout the world. While it seemed a bit frivolous, Emma could recognize that Elsa took the job quite seriously and had bought her sister's shares of most of the business interests. As the woman had said herself, she liked to be in charge.

"My sister might not have a head for business, but she helps to run the charitable arm of our business. Both an environmental foundation and one dedicated to animals. In addition, she sits on many of the boards that our mother used to in her free time." Elsa frowned. "I suppose that sounds very pretentious to someone like you, but charity is very important to our family. We make sure to give back in every way we can."

Emma nodded her head thoughtfully. "It seems that you have quite a few employees. Is it possible that one of them might have done something because of a labor dispute?" She looked at the list of employees that Elsa had gestured to earlier. It was a thick pile of papers that was single spaced and far too long to make heads or tails of without long hours of research. "Anyone you can think of?"

"The employees of my company are not the types who would do that," she spat as if the thought had never occurred to her. They are loyal, kind, and hardworking. When I decided to form search teams for my sister I gave each employee both corporate and service the choice. They could search for her or they could take the time off at home. Either way, they got paid. Not one of them went home. They have all been part of the efforts to bring Anna and Kris home. So Ms. Swan, I suggest you look elsewhere to find your suspects. Because the hands of this family and this company are clean."

***AAA***

Three days later on Halloween, she stood on the front stoop of Killian's rental with the orange plastic bucket over her wrist and her other hand banging on the door in short knocks. Waiting on him to answer, she shifted her weight and formed her mouth into a happy smile that he would see first thing. She didn't have to wait long, as the door flew open and his laugh rang out with her words, "trick or treat."

"I thought you said you were too old for a costume," he challenged, grabbing her hand and pulling her into the foyer. "You're adorable."

She wore a simple black turtleneck and a headband with a pair of pointed ears like a cat. Her face was painted with black lines to indicate whiskers and the tip of her nose was black. It was broad daylight and she worried that someone might see her, but the idea of surprising him with a playful side was too much for the deputy.

Killian's home was not nearly as monochromatic or sterile as Emma had imagined, but she had not seen much of it. From her vantage point, she could honestly say that the wall behind her was solid and the carpet a plush pile that would probably let her feet sink into the softness when they were bare. It was hard to notice much else as her eyes were closed and her other senses were busy with the way he was kissing her there inside the foyer.

"I thought we were going to watch a movie," she managed to say as he ran the tip of his tongue along the cords of her neck and his large hand palmed the roundness of her breast. "You promised I could pick."

"Later," he muttered against her skin. "I'm busy," His other hand was yanking at the shirt she wore and had tucked into her jeans, fingers digging to find the skin that was still covered in fabric.

"Killian," she said in a breathy sigh. "I thought we were going to…" The palms of her hands were flat on his chest as she gave him a little shove that seemed not to deter him.

"We haven't seen each other since Sunday," he groaned, sounding very much like a petulant child. The groan became more growl like as she pushed him again. "You are going to be the death of me, love." He pulled back, his skin flushed and breathing already sharp.

She laughed, curling her fingers into the flannel fabric of his shirt. "It doesn't have to be all or nothing. I just would prefer not to have my first visit to your apartment only include the foyer because we couldn't…"

"Control ourselves?" he finished for her. His eyes flashed mischievously as he pulled her back to him and hovered his mouth over hers. Her lips parted in anticipation, soaking in the warm breath that he emitted. However, with a quick jerk upward, his lips planted a kiss at the tip of her nose and then backed away. "I could go for a bite of something." He turned away to head to the stainless steel appliances of his kitchen. "Hungry, love?"

It was her turn to groan unappreciatively and reluctantly follow him on a quick tour of the two bedroom apartment that seemed to her to be comfortable and much more spacious than her own. She was not even sure why he seemed content in spending time at her place when he had so much better space and accommodations. She asked him such and got an answer that it was the hostess that kept him coming back.

However, true to his word, he found them some refreshments that she noshed on while he scoured the channels on television. She was tucked into his side as they scanned the offerings and found nothing that seemed to distract them. "You planned this," she accused, her lips pouting. "You invited me over to watch whatever I want when there is nothing to watch." She stretched the best she could, her toes pointing and muscles tightening as she tried not to think about the 30 boxes of records in her work area

"It's not my fault there is nothing on the telly, love," he shot back indignantly, but his smirk indicating more enjoyment than anger. "And you can't honestly think I only wanted you here for watching a movie." He tossed the remote control onto the cushion beside him, turning his upper body to face her. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," she admitted, blinking as her eyes glazed over in her fatigue. "It's been a long week." She had spent most of it working, the consistency of it taking her mind off the pressure that seemed be reaching new levels in the office. Every place she had gone there were questions about David, the missing money, and Graham's knowledge of the finances. She had brushed all of them off, feigning little interest in what she referred to as idle gossip.

David's demeanor was stiff from the constant worry about the situation. He and Mary Margaret had spent most of the time holed up in one or the other's apartments and not answering the phones. Apparently, Emma had learned, Mr. Nolan was furious and had assembled a crisis communication team and lawyers to discuss strategy. Combined with a string of break ins along the busy shops in town, Emma had felt herself grow tired and cranky with the schedule. Eying Killian carefully, Emma realized that he looked just as tired as she felt. His stifled yawn proved her point.

"We could take a nap," she suggested, finding a comfortable position with his arm about her and her head on his shoulder. "Everything will be easier with some sleep."

His chuckle rang out in the room, echoing a bit. "When I anticipated seeing you and having you here, I did not imagine napping to be a part of the itinerary. I imagined doing much more enjoyable things with you." His cheek rested against the top of her head and his free hand laced with one of hers.

"They'll be more enjoyable if we are not yawning," Emma declared. "And I think you probably imagined getting me into your bed any way that you could." She raised her eyebrows. "So, come on sailor. Take me to bed."

"For a nap?" he asked, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it. "May I at least carry you?" He didn't wait for her response, sweeping her up into his arms bridal style and dropping one more kiss on her lips before shucking her off into the bedroom to the sound of her squeals and laughter.

He was tired himself, though he hated to admit as much to her after their time apart with their busy work schedules. And the thoughts he'd had of her in his bed had not included the idea of napping and slumbering as anything but recovery. However, he was enamored enough to appreciate the view of her between the sheets that held him each night and her beckoning eyes and mouth as he divested himself of everything but his boxers to join her. As much as he might have wanted to make love to her there and then, he held back and let her curl into his embrace with a soft sigh and whispered wish for sweet dreams. Only a few minutes later he was finding his own mind spiraling into the abyss of dreams of rest.

About two hours later it was Emma who woke first. It had still been daylight when she arrived at his apartment, the sun shining through the dipping temperatures and falling leaves that indicated not only had autumn arrived but winter was not far behind. So when she woke up in the softly worn sheets with a blanket and his warm body keeping her from feeling the chill in the air, she was surprised to see the muted colors of the room without the blaze of the sun that had begun to set.

His grip was present but slight with this arm about her waist and the tickle of his stubble on her shoulder. She still felt the slight jolt of waking up in someone's arms, the familiarity and simple intimacy of it seeming to take over even her most pessimistic moments. There was something comforting and yet strangely ominous about how quickly they felt comfortable.

"Quit wiggling," he muttered as she tried to readjust her position. "I was having a lovely dream about a blonde woman in my bed."

She rested her arm over his, her fingers smoothing the back of his hand. "I was thinking it might be time to wake up," she suggested, her voice thick from the sleep-laden afternoon they had spent. "If we're not going to the costume party, you're going to have trick-or-treaters soon. You did buy candy, didn't you?"

"Aye," he mumbled. "Bloody waste of money and time. Children begging for candy that will rot their teeth."

Her gentle caress turned into a slap to his hand and a laugh. "You sound like an old man. How old are you? 300?"

"This old man has better things to do than hand out treats to children I don't know. Perhaps we could leave them on the stoop and let them…"

"They'd be gone in five minutes and then some kid who didn't get anything will egg your place." She arched backwards into his chest. "You don't want that, do you?"

"It depends," he said, his mouth close to her ear. "I should think you could distract me from any worry about property damage. We've already been postponed from my plans by your desire to take a nap. Don't tell me we have to wait longer." His mouth ran along the curve of her neck, his own body hardening against her. He felt like a teenage boy desperate for her attention, but he swore he wouldn't be that guy. He wouldn't push her or use her without regard, but he knew she wanted this physical side of things too.

She grasped the hand that was there where the t-shirt she had borrowed from him had ridden up over her hips. Guiding it upward under the soft material, she pressed his hand to her skin between her breasts – dragging it in circles under each globe. He hummed with delight. "I guess we could ignore the first few knocks," she said turning her head to meet his mouth. "I can't hear the door from here. How about you?" Sloppy and a bit awkward, their kisses only served to create more of a fevered pitch between them.

"I don't hear a thing," he muttered, rolling her to her back and not removing his hand from her guided grip. Her hopeful smile and hitched breath almost did him in as he positioned himself over her, dipping down to kiss those same lips again and push even more at the fabric of the shirt he had loaned her. He wasn't sure he would ever be able to wear it again, as it looked far better with its faded emblem from some band and the frayed neck from too many washings. Separated from the only article of clothing she wore except for the lace panties that he had told her were quite becoming and what he now always would imagine when he thought of her, his mouth moved from her lips to encircle one hardening nipple as his fingertips teased the other.

She keened under his attention, her head swiveling on the pillow and one hand burying itself in his hair as she held him to her. When he paused momentarily to look up at her, she smiled at him again. "I think I really like your mouth," she commented between breaths. He demonstrated a bit more of why she would say such a thing before looking back to her.

The apples of his cheeks rose to nearly the level of his eyes as he smiled. "And I think I really like the taste of you," he said. "So sweet and addicting." Scooting downward, he hooked his fingers through the lace of the pale green panties and pulled downward, revealing the glistening folds he had been thinking about more than he cared to admit.

She whimpered a bit as his fingered tested and probed, impatience evident in her eyes and the sounds coming from her mouth. He dragged a finger over her, reveling in the way her legs fell even more open with want of him. She was becoming more impatient, which seemed to spur him on more despite the ache between his own legs. He lifted her right leg and ran his mouth up the length of it, teasing and dipping along the curve of it and stopping briefly in spots only to annoy her and frustrate her. But it was all meant as a study of her, learning the quirks and tricks that seemed to make her tick. He silently celebrated each one, memorizing the sounds she made and the way his attention could illicit such reactions.

"Killian," she whimpered, her voice going higher on the last syllable. She was afraid he was going to keep this torture up, skipping over where she wanted him most to do the same ritual to her other leg. "Killian, I swear if you…"

He chuckled, amused that she could be so humorously demanding even in such a moment. Taking pity on her, his mouth found its way to her glistening mound to her frustration turned delight. Without too much more teasing, his mouth worked at her until the frenzy that had become her state exploded around her and left her calling out his name.

Her muscles that had been so tight turned to jelly as she sank backward with a few incoherent words flying out. "You're pretty pleased with yourself, aren't you?" she asked, her arm falling back onto the bed with her as she lost contact with the back his head.

"I think you're quite pleased with me too," he teased, running his tongue over his lips as he looked toward her with lust still evident in his eyes.

Shakily, her arms raised up to pull him down to her, kissing him. When they broke for air she could see the desire she had for him mirrored in his own dark expression. Loosening her grip on his back and shoulders, she slid her hands down to the waist of his boxers, one hand reaching his length and running long fingers over him. Stroking him, her own smile grew with each moan he made.

She repositioned them so that she was the one hovering over him. Her mouth closed over him to the echoing sound of his hiss at both the sensation and realization of that moment. He stilled for a moment before continuing his own exploration and teasing of her body, unwilling to be the only one on the receiving end. However, her own determination seemed more forceful as she continued her ministrations.

His breath was shaky as he told her that he did not intend to ask to bring him to completion in such a way. "As lovely as that would be, I'd prefer to be inside you," he said, making her marvel that somehow his vocabulary didn't disappear with any situation.

Her lips pouted outward as she looked to be considering her options, then smiled as she pretended to relent. "I'm going to get my way eventually," she said. "I want to hear you lose control like you've heard me."

"I doubt I would be as lovely," he said before capturing her lips again. Their mouths stayed fused and hands roamed before his length slid into her. Her eyes that had been half closed opened as he did, smiling a tight-lipped grin back at him as their bodies again found the rhythm that they both craved.

She marveled again at how each time with him seemed to be like a new discovery of what could only be considered a fated union. There were no designs in her mind that he was just good enough or somehow a distraction. While she could not and would not say the words aloud, she was sure that whatever it was between them was if not permanent, then life altering in a way that she would never be the same without him. And as scary as that was for a woman who feared the words "for the rest of my life," she was trying her best to accept herself as worthy of him.

She could never grow tired of the way he touched her so reverently and delicately even as his hips thrust toward her with a fevered pitch. The juxtaposition of his movements to his caresses and the way he whispered her name was enough to drive her mad. Add to it the way he would tell her of his desire for her and she was only seconds away from a padded room by her own estimation.

He was just as enamored with her reactions, the way her eyes fluttered if he touched the right spot or the way her breathing told of her climax before it actually broke. He adored the soft pinkness of her skin as she succumbed to his attention, as did he love the taste of her skin and most intimate areas as she sank into her oblivion. There was something about the way she clenched about him, her walls both tugging and embracing his length as they both sought completion.

She lost the climb first, his name falling from her lips in the most erotic of ways. Head thrown back, he used the better angle to run his mouth along the column of her throat and back down to the breasts that he swore called to him even when she was not there. She whimpered and writhed beneath him, almost sending him over the edge as she arched back and gave him even better access. He muttered a few curses and praises across her pebbled skin. His hand sought her out between them, his fingers finding sensitive areas that would continue to please her as her body still quivered around him.

He was prolonging things as long as he could, but when her second climax hit, he was soon to follow. Her moans and mewls of appreciation and satisfaction mingled with his own as he spilled deep inside her. He only held himself there on her for a moment before rolling them to their sides and brushing back her hair in a tender move that seemed to contradict their previous acts.

"You'll do anything to keep from handing out candy," she laughed. "I think you might have a sweet tooth."

"Indeed," he chuckled back. "I hate to say it, but perhaps we are due another nap."

"Old man," she hissed back at him, giggling as he mockingly assaulted her with a kiss.


	11. Chapter 11

**_Okay so I am still flying high about all the cuteness that is Colin and JMo at SDCC. But I wanted to get another chapter up for all the wonderful people who have commented, followed, faved, liked, or given this story kudos. I am so in love with the ideas I have for it that I can't wait to work on it each day._**

 ** _There isn't much Captain Swan in this chapter, but the plot moves forward and an important scene happens. The scene between Mary Margaret and Emma was one of my favorites to write. I hope you enjoy!_**

"I've got a favor to ask," Emma said as Robin and John left the station to meet David at the courthouse with a few files a judge had requested. Graham and Emma had been left alone with a small call volume and as far as the blonde deputy was concerned, a lot of dead ends in her search for Anna.

"I suppose I owe you as much," Graham said, leaning back in his chair so far that the hinges groaned. "What can I do?"

Biting her lip, Emma looked at the files on her desk and the hand truck of four more boxes that had been brought in that day. "I need a sounding board on this case. I'm going in circles. It's nuts."

"Ahhh," he said, as if he didn't know what she had been working on for days. "I suppose I could take a look. But you and David are a bit better at the missing persons cases. I do more good with some of the criminals and talking them down." He was right, as his experience was more in terms of negotiation than it was in finding the lost. "Give me one of the files."

Her top teeth dented her bottom lip. "We shouldn't…"

He looked toward the empty and dark office that was assigned to David. "You don't want anyone to know you asked for help."

"I'm awful?"

"No, you're concerned about your career. And frankly with good reason. I don't need David saying how I take control of other people's responsibilities. No big one. Why don't you come over this evening and we'll have go at these files. I'll even spring for a beer or two."

She knew that he had been living at Granny's lately, his latest relationship having gone bad and leaving him without a home for the moment after she had commandeered it and destroyed most of his belongings. "Sounds good." She looked up at the clock and smiled with a hopeful glint. "One more favor?"

Running a hand over the lower part of his face, Graham widened his eyes to ask her what she wanted now.

"I kind of have lunch plans? Could you watch things here until…"

"If I want to be in charge, I suppose I should be comfortable enough being the lone deputy for an hour or so. Go have lunch with that man you're seeing."

***AAA***

"You don't even like the chili cheese fries," Emma said, stealing one off of his plate and wagging it in front of him before biting off a bit.

"But you do," he answered, taken aback by her reaction to his simple statement. She scooted closer to him on the shared bench in the corner of the diner, having shocked him when she passed over the empty one across from him and huddling in next to him with her head on his shoulder as they had waited on the food.

She knew that Granny was probably rolling her eyes when he lifted another of the sloppy fried potatoes and lifted it to her mouth to feed her. She would have rolled her eyes at such a display from any other couple, but he made those kinds of gestures feel real and normal.

"I thought you had a meeting this morning," she said, confused by his laid back attire on a day when he was supposed to schmooze clients.

"Aye, earlier I was to meet with the sheriff and mayor, but it was postponed," he shrugged. "Allowed me to sleep in a bit."

"Lucky," she said, running her cheek along the sharpness of his shoulder. "I wouldn't mind a late morning." She stilled for a moment, thinking about the idea and realizing that she still had not asked him why he had been looking as though he had not slept a wink. Lifting her head off of his shoulder, she reached up to smooth her hand over his face, feeling the contrast of the smooth skin with the prickle of his stubble. "You need more sleep."

"Just some pressure at work keeping me up," he admitted in what he hoped sounded like a casual tone. He rolled his lips over his teeth and gave a tight smile. "My company and bosses would very much like me to close the sale to the city on the rescue vessels and equipment. It's a substantial profit to them, but with the investigation into the funds that have essentially disappeared and the idea that others have been misappropriated…well, the mayor and sheriff are a bit more reluctant now to make such a purchase."

Emma shifted uncomfortably. "So you're under pressure to get that sale complete?" She knew that she had not been all that supportive of the sale that would make life easier for him, as it would take money away from her own ideas for better needed equipment. However, she was aware of David's priorities and how that equipment would help the residents and visitors.

"Aye, but I would never jeopardize anyone's standing or reputation over a commission," His arm that farthest from her reached for his coffee and he sipped from the cup. "The sale is not the end for my superiors. If I was to close it today, they would be after me about something else tomorrow. Another client, another upgrade, another sale. It is a never ending cycle, love." Rolling his neck in a slight stretch, he sighed. "I imagine it is a bit like law enforcement. No matter how much you work toward your goal, there is always another case that needs your attention. It is never just over and done."

"You're right on that," she admitted, her head falling back to his shoulder as she glanced at the glowing clock above the counter. "I should probably be getting back. I've got a ton of background to finish on this missing persons case." She exhaled sharply through her nose, pulling away from him and reaching to grab her bag at the same time.

He stopped her, grabbing her wrist and puling slightly until she looked back at him. He brushed his lips against hers in a chaste kiss that would not send Granny after them for an inappropriate display in her diner. "If you need my assistance, love, I'd be happy to lend a hand. I may not be as skilled as you in this field, but I've watched a few episodes of _Law & Order_."

She giggled, a sound he could appreciate since she let herself be carefree so rarely. "I think I'll stick to the professionals on this one. You go sell a boat and I'll find this girl and her fiancé. We'll compare notes later?"

He grinned. "Perhaps tonight? We could watch some of those crime show reruns and you could tell me how wrong they are?"

She looked genuinely apologetic, reaching out to smooth the lines near his eyes that appeared as he smiled. "I'm afraid I've got some work to do on the case this evening, but maybe a raincheck?"

***AAA***

"I've got nothing in these files," Emma admitted reluctantly as she pushed the dust and water stained box across the table. "I swear that woman and her fiancé just disappeared. It's like they haven't even existed."

Graham nodded, his eyes scanning another set of photographs from the art gallery event. "Are you sure that Elsa said they were at this event? This newspaper ran two whole pages of photos of every important person you can imagine. No sign of anyone named Anna or Kris. I mean look at this." He tossed her the pages. "There is Mr. Nolan, Mr. Gold, Belle, even Regina. All the movers and shakers in Storybrooke are in these photos, but there is no sign of this Anna woman."

Emma frowned deeply at the black and white images of beautiful people dressed to the nines and posing with champagne in hand. Her eyes lingered on one shot in particular with a bit of sadness that she tried to mask with a look of concentration. "I didn't sense that she was lying," Emma said slowly, her finger coming to rest on the text below the photograph she was studying so hard. "Maybe Anna and Kris weren't there at the same time as this photographer?"

Huffing at the suggestion, Graham rolled his eyes. "You know these society types. They can sniff out a publicity opportunity a mile away. If they were there with the photographer, I have no doubt that Anna and her fiancé were jumping in front of the camera with the rest of them."

"I just don't get the sense that Elsa was lying," Emma repeated distractedly.

"Oh right, your super power. You can't give us the lottery numbers, but you can tell when someone lies." It had been a joke around the station for as long as Emma had been there, but if any of them stopped to think, her ability to discern truth from lie was quite adept. She had developed that talent at an early age, determining that most people lied to her when other would assume their innocence.

"Let's look at the list again. That list of attendees. I feel like we're missing something." She pushed aside the newspaper pictures, just out of Graham's reach so that she could reference it again.

Graham's mouth opened a bit and then shut again as he realized the sincere desire for her to find this information. "Have you considered the romantic rivalry angle on this?" he asked, resting his chin on a hand and supporting himself on his elbow. "I'm not sure of this Anna or Kris's past, but it is likely they may have had some relationship, tryst, or liaison that might have not ended well?"

Emma leaned back in her chair, one of the wooden deathtraps that Granny used to furnish each of the rooms. The heels of her hands were pressed into her eyes. "I'll see if I can find out. I know these two were together for a while."

Graham stood from his seat and pulled another beer from the cardboard container on the dresser. "Another?"

"Should we really be having beers while we're working on this case?" she asked, holding her hand out for one that he placed there. "But thank you."

"You just asked that because it is the proper thing to ask. As for a drink? I think they can be helpful at times. Perhaps it might help us to see from a different perspective."

She sipped from the lukewarm bottle and continued digging through the files with him. They made a few notes and observations, but there were no breakthrough moments or discoveries. Two of the boxes had been completely searched, cataloged, and deciphered with the third one mostly complete when Graham let out a loud yawn. It was his third in the last 20 minutes. Guiltily, Emma stood and dropped the lid on the box. "I should let you get some sleep. You've got work tomorrow too. And the debate…"

Exhaling sharply, he lifted his tired eyes up to see her standing there. "I don't mind helping you with this, Emma. It's what friends do." His fingers laced behind his neck. "Though I wouldn't object to a little sleep. Are you alright to drive? Should I call a cab for you? That boyfriend of yours?"

"I'm fine," Emma assured, him, throwing on her leather jacket that seemed to be a permanent fixture of her wardrobe during this time of year. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" She circled the table to where the boxes were stacked and began to shuffle them back into place.

"Leave them," he said. "I'll try and have another go at them in the morning."

She headed down the dimly lit stairs toward the side door that would take her to where her car was parked. The older wallpaper needed changing, but it was solidly glued in place and Ruby joked that someday it would probably circle back to being in style, though by then it would probably have faded too much to see the pattern. Not wearing gloves, she shoved her hands into her pockets, feeling the cool of her cell phone there and toying briefly with the idea of texting Killian.

He'd ask her over or offer to come over himself, she realized as she dug into the other pocket for her keys. While the idea wasn't all that bad, she was not sure she wanted to do that. It was becoming familiar and comforting to be with him. And while it did not scare her as it used to, it was not something that came naturally to her. She hated that it now felt out of place for the other side of her bed to be cool or that his scent still lingered on her sheets and she supposed hers on his. She enjoyed their time together, but the time apart was becoming increasingly absent of her once fierce solitude that she had equated with normal. Part of her wanted to see if that side of her existed under the romance and softness that Killian provided her.

She was in her car before she remembered the folded newspaper in her bag with the photo that she wanted to look at better by herself. Using the streetlamp was not a good idea, so she drove the few blocks toward her apartment and resisted unfolding it until she was sitting there in her living room. She was sure she recognized the dark haired male standing next to the mayor. His features were familiar, especially the crooked smile and the shape of his eyes.

Swallowing hard, she traced the shape of his face with her finger. If she stared long enough, she knew that time would go backwards to a day when she was still a teenager and those eyes had seemed so safe and warm. The sobs that she wanted to hold back burned in her throat as she pulled out her phone and called the only person she knew who could answer the questions for her.

A groggy voice answered with concern and little annoyance for the late hour of the call. "Mary Margaret?" Emma asked, as if someone else might have picked up the teacher's cell phone. "I need to talk to you. Could you come over? Or I could…"

There was a muttered conversation in the background between the brunette and David before she returned to the line. "I'll be right there."

***AAA***

Emma closed the flap on the envelope and fastened the metal prongs to secure it tightly. She knew that nobody she invited into her home would bother to look at the scraps of paper and photographs held inside there, but she felt a bit better with the closure secure and her secrets hidden inside. Secrets, she thought with a wry laugh. She had very few of those left after Killian had seemed to open her up and accept her for just who she was now.

"You've never looked at them before?" Mary Margaret asked. Her voice was gentle and rolling as she cocked her head to the side and waited patiently for an answer.

"I knew that Regina is his adoptive mother. We've never talked about it per se, but she sends me updates and photos of him once a year. I just never…"

"Opened them? He's going to have questions someday," Mary Margaret said, her right hand curling around a warm mug of tea. "I mean you have questions about your own parents. I have questions about my mother and I at least knew her for part of my childhood."

Emma had held this debate with herself for years. Someday it was possible that her son would want to know about her or at least why she had chosen to not raise him. She could not blame him for that. It was one of the reasons that when her son's adoptive mother had suggested keeping at least some of the communication open that she had agreed, albeit reluctantly. That communication was limited. A letter and photographs once a year from her and Emma wrote letters to him every birthday and special occasion that were boxed away for when and if he was ready to see them.

"I wonder if all this was the right decision," Emma admitted, the tips of her fingers tapping on the brown paper casing. "Not the adoption, but this idea that I can be in communication with him. It's hard. The older he gets, the more I wonder…"

The teacher looked sympathetically at her friend, knowing that she had few answers for her. The adoption had not been an easy process. And living in the town where the boy was growing up made it even harder to ignore that any of this had taken place.

"I know you have never asked me what I know," Mary Margaret said, her spine straight and her legs curled to the side of her as she continued to sip on the tea. "He's in my class this year." She paused as she let Emma process that news.

"You didn't tell me that," Emma answered quietly. "I thought…"

"You have a stack of these envelopes that you aren't even opening. You won't even say his name. I don't think that I was wrong to not tell you that the boy is in my class."

Emma nodded, knowing that her denial of things had helped her get through more than one tough moment. "What's he like?" she asked. "What's Henry like?"

"Smart," she said quickly. "He's funny, cute, and very smart. He has a great imagination. He loves to read. And his writing is above grade level. I could see him…I could see him doing something with that talent someday." She reached her freehand out to touch Emma's forearm. "Are you okay with this?"

Emma nodded, worrying her lip between her teeth. "He sounds like Neal."

"And you," the teacher said softly. "He's a lot like you."

She wasn't sure how to take that, as she had always imagined her son with the traits that she lacked. She had wished for him a better life and a stronger family. She wanted him to have a good life that was filled with friends and love. She wanted him to have adventures and knowledge. But the ideas of him had always been nebulous. She had avoided those pictures of him because she preferred her vision of him in her mind's eye, not the reality. "Thank you," she muttered to her friend, knowing that Mary Margaret had been holding this in too. She had held it in to protect Emma, a fact not lost on the blonde.

"I'm so sorry that you have to go through this," she said, "but I do think you've made the right decisions. Emma, he's happy. He's healthy. He has a good life."

"That's all I can ask for, right?" She leaned his head to the side against the back cushion of the couch as Mary Margaret shifted closer, holding her arm over her friend's shoulders. They didn't say anything more about her son or the picture staring back at them.

***AAA***

Emma was later than usual the next morning when she left to go to work. Her hair dryer had not worked. She'd had to change her shirt after an incident with the travel coffee mug and the lid that didn't close. And she had tried for 10 minutes to find the back of her earring only to find it on the coffee table. Harried and hurrying, she had run out to her car without realizing that she had gotten no good morning text from Killian, though it had become their custom. He even sent them if she was in one room and he was in another, telling her that she brought out his cheeky side.

She was answering a call about graffiti when she realized she had not heard from him. Stranger still was the way the woman who had made the call was staring at her. There was a knowing look about her, a sense of condescension when Emma mentioned calling one of the other deputies to see if he might have answered a similar call recently.

Her entire morning seemed to go that way, but she tried to ignore it. Pulling into her spot in front of Elsa's large house, she checked her hair in the mirror and rushed up the steps to try out the questions about past relationships as Graham had suggested. She wasn't sure why the thought had not occurred to her before, but she was glad for the idea now. It made sense, which meant she had to follow through.

The housekeeper led her not to the formal living room from before but a wood paneled office that had clearly belonged to the girls' father prior to his death. There were few touches from Elsa, as most of the photos were of the man himself with various celebrities and politicians. Emma sat there in one of the red leather guest chairs, her hands folded in her lap.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Elsa said, entering the room. She wore a severely tailored suit, but its light blue color seemed to soften it a bit. Her long hair was almost white with its blondeness and was braided tightly into a bun at the base of her neck. "I had something to take care of."

"That's alright," Emma said, offering a cautious smile. "I had hoped to ask you a few questions about Anna's relationships. I know that she is engaged to Kris, but prior to that? Were there any previous boyfriends or lovers?"

Elsa's brow furrowed as she considered that possibly someone her sister knew and had loved could have done something to her. "My sister had previous relationships, but she was…she was on good terms with most all of them." She motioned to an older woman to place that same silver tea service from before. The older woman moved with efficiency and care, pouring them both a cup and only speaking to ask Emma about her preference for sugar and lemon.

She waited for the woman to leave them alone again before she spoke. "Most but not all?" she asked, picking up on the other woman's wording. "There is someone who…"

"Emma," Elsa said, her voice sharp on the familiar name. "My sister is a loving and caring woman. She is neither frivolous nor cold in her dealings with people. Everyone loves and adores her. I can assure you that none of her past relationships would result in anything sinister. She has good tastes."

"Of course," Emma said, reminding herself that insulting the missing to the family was not a good move. "Can I ask about the event at the art gallery? I have been looking at the news coverage and didn't see any photos of your sister or her fiancé. That struck me as a bit strange." She chewed on the inside of her mouth as she waited for Elsa to answer. The woman before her seemed to never answer without careful thought and consideration. She wasn't so much calculating as careful.

"Emma, I wish you wouldn't pretend that your attention is focused on my sister. I know it isn't. You must realize that today's article certainly wasn't flattering to you or to Deputy Graham."

Emma shook her head. "Article?"

Looking a bit annoyed at Emma's unwillingness to defend herself, Elsa reached into a basket on the corner of the desk. Pulling a newspaper out, she unfolded it and laid it on the desk with precision. "This one," she said.

Emma felt her throat constrict as she saw the picture of herself and Graham from some work function the year before on the front page. Next to it was her own mugshot. Her eyes skimmed the words, seeing allegations that she was having a relationship with him and that the two were involved. It did not directly accuse her of stealing the money, but insinuated that she had opportunity and a history of such things.

"Should I be worried?" Elsa asked calmly. "I need a professional to help me find Anna and Kris. I don't need someone who is going to be distracted about saving her own skin."

 ** _Thoughts?_**


	12. Chapter 12

**_Let me start out with another thank you for the comments and questions about this fic. I am still trying to stretch and grow, writing more of the romantic side and not what I am comfortable with writing. I hope that people are still enjoying it and following along._**

 ** _I've had two questions that I wanted to address:_**

 ** _First, I forgot to have CS use a condom. Whoops! That was my bad and my life as a married woman. Just not used to thinking of them any longer. I am not planning an accidental pregnancy so that was just an oversight. Sorry about that._**

 ** _Second, the characterization of Elsa. Yes, I made her very standoffish. In this chapter, I hope you'll see a little more of why that is and what her issues are within this story. I hope that settles that question for my anonymous reader. If not, I apologize for not living up to your expectation._**

Killian had never been a man who gave up easily, especially on his heart's desire. At 10 he had wanted a bike just like the kid down the street. Despite his mother and brother telling him that he could not have one, as they cost way too much, he had worked around the neighborhood and saved for two years until he could buy that bike. Even after it was his, he didn't quit working. He had washed and polished it weekly. He was careful with it and protected it with everything he had. If Liam hadn't protested so loudly, he would have pulled it into their shared room and slept with it every night.

So the concept that he had lost the heart of Emma Swan without notice or an opportunity to fight for her was one that gnawed at his gut. He had never felt so sick as he did that morning upon seeing the newspaper. After his alarm had not sounded and he'd found himself rushing to make it to work on time, he was already drafting a half dozen texts in his head to send her. Funny, sweet, and loving messages were on his mind as he rode the elevator.

He was already pounding out one of those messages when a nervous and hesitant William Smee placed the newspaper on his desk. "I thought you'd want to see this," he had said, his head hung as he backed away from Killian before completely turning to run once he reached the door.

The first emotion he had felt was rage upon seeing the younger yet still beautifully familiar face of Emma in a mug shot. He knew immediately that this was not a good thing. Emma's fears about her past being revealed to an unforgiving and gossip happy citizenry of Storybrooke was coming true. His free hand clenched at his side, Killian was mentally calculating how long it would take to make it to her side when he read the part about her leaving Graham's hotel room the night before.

She had said she was working, meeting someone about a case. The story left off in midsentence, leaving him scrambling to turn the page when he saw the photograph of her. It was dark and grainy, but he saw those same clothes she had been wearing the day before, the golden hair that bounced and curled down her back was a bit messier but still in the same fashion he had seen her with at lunch. He had closed his eyes to the sight, wishing he had not seen the image that was now burned into his head. She had been there.

He had no real claim to her other than their still fragile and still new relationship. But he didn't want to share her with any man, let alone one who could not possibly appreciate her as he did. He didn't want the flood of images that were now assaulting him. Had she let him touch her? Had her mouth been on him? Had she moaned, sighed, and mewled with that passion he had come to love from her? Did Graham know how she tasted? Did he know how her long curls tickled his bare skin or how she closed her eyes first when they kissed? Any man knowing those and her other secrets was more than he could stand.

Sighing, he looked at his phone again. She deserved a chance to explain, tell him how this was all some sort of mistake. But he didn't call. He didn't want to hear her say it meant nothing or that she was sorry. He didn't deserve an apology, as far as he was concerned. He did not want to hear anything at that point. It was a childish way to be, an immature response, but he was not sure how else to react. Still, he wondered how she was and if she was dealing with this any better than he was. Did she feel betrayed somehow? Did she feel like everyone was against her? Did she feel alone?

She would come to him, he said under his breath. She would want to explain. She would want him to understand. So he settled in to wait for that explanation.

***AAA***

David's face was pale as he paced the short space between his desk and the filing cabinet with the phone tucked at his ear and his hands pushing up the folded flannel sleeves of his shirt. "Damn it," he said into the phone. "I want to know who leaked the photo from her record. I want to know who leaked her record. She was tried and convicted in juvenile court. You can't get those records easily." The redness of his cheeks were the only two splotches of color.

She sat there in his office, leaned forward and reminding herself to breathe. Graham wasn't even there, having called in and told David he had nothing to do with the story and wanting to be as far from it as possible. Robin was handling most of the calls along with John as the two friends considered options and made threats to the newspaper and David's father.

"Nothing," David said, throwing his phone onto the newspaper that was now on his desk. "Tight lipped bastards won't say a word unless it's to print this garbage." He gestured wildly. "It's one thing to accuse me. I'm in charge. I should know where the hell the money has gone, but you. You're innocent." He shook his head.

"I'm fine," she murmured, not raising her gaze from the floor. "I hurt. This hurts. I didn't want people to know this way."

"Freedom of the press my ass," he said, grabbing the phone again and punching in numbers. "Where is Killian by the way? I thought he'd be down here challenging Graham or maybe Sidney to a duel."

Despite the radiator and the ceramic heater that David used due to his cold natured tendencies, Emma shivered in her chair. "I haven't spoken with him."

He lowered the phone, sympathy and worry flashing between the rage. "Emma, he wouldn't believe that…"

"Why not?" Emma asked. "Why wouldn't he believe that I was capable of not only stealing from the city but having a tryst with a co-worker? What makes you think his mind wouldn't automatically go there? Yours did."

David sighed, striding over and stooping down in front of her. "Yes, I was surprised to hear you were in his room last night. I understand now, but I never thought that you… I know you. You aren't that person in the story. You aren't that conniving or manipulative. And Killian knows that to, honey. I swear. I'm going to fix this. And when I do, I'm going to go grab him and drag him here to talk to you about all this. You'll see. He's just in shock right now."

Emma snorted, pushing herself up to look at him. "It doesn't matter," she said. "It doesn't matter because if he cared…"

"This wasn't a test," he interrupted. "If I had to guess, I'd say he's feeling like shit right now. You two have been attached at the hip lately. And knowing you, there hasn't been any discussion of commitment or monogamy. It's just understood, right? So imagine him picking up the newspaper this morning and seeing this story on the front page. He doesn't believe it, but there it is in black and white. And page two has a grainy shot of you leaving Granny's in the same outfit he knew you were wearing yesterday."

She shrugged, but the tears were building in her eyes. "It doesn't matter," she said, more for herself than David. "It would have ended in disaster anyway. It always ends in disaster. It was too good. Too perfect. I told him things that I hadn't told anyone."

David knew those things too, only because he had lived with her through most of them. "Go to him," David said. "Stop pretending like you don't want to go over there. Go talk to him. You're going to be worthless here until you do. So go talk to him now."

"I have to follow up on this case with Anna. I need to call and talk to Elsa about what she knows. I'm telling you that something is there. Something is wrong." She swallowed roughly. "I left there when she showed me the article. I have to show her that I'm more than that. I'm more than…"

"After you talk to Killian," David said, bringing her forehead down and looking at her sternly. "I'm telling you now that you're not any good to me until you get whatever this is straightened out between you. I can't have you moping and whining and wondering what if. Go talk to him."

***AAA***

"You're an idiot," Eric said as she read the article from the online version of the newspaper. "A complete and utter idiot. I mean, how did you even tie your shoes this morning?"

Killian said nothing, his blue eyes stormy as his supervisor tried to explain that this was some misunderstanding. He had no doubt that Emma was innocent of the claims about stealing the money from the department's budget. She was not that type of woman. He could not even completely blame her if she had in fact spent the evening with the other deputy, as they had not defined their relationship in terms of commitment. He blamed himself for that, as he knew she was skittish and likely to run if he pressed too hard. So he had let her set their pace. That meant he had been a practical bystander in it.

"She's probably crying over this and you're here acting like a stubborn ass." Eric's eyes were piercing as he scowled. "Did you even call her?"

"To say what?" Killian finally spoke. "Should I have asked if she found her way home from that hotel room with him? Or should I ask if she wanted to set a schedule where she can see him on Mondays and Wednesdays?" His stomach lurched with the idea, idiotic as it seemed. He knew she had done nothing. Knew it. But still he could not overcome the sensation that she had been in that man's arms the night before. He could see it all in his imagination. He could see her body folding against his, her moans and sighs echoing off the old fashioned décor of Granny's. He was torturing himself with absolutely no proof, but the longer that went by without hearing her voice was making it impossible for him to picture anything else.

"Do you truly believe that?" Eric asked. The desk phone buzzed shrilly and with one hand, the sales manager pressed a single button and directed whoever it was that he wasn't available. "Because I know I only saw you two at the Nolan party, but she didn't seem to have eyes for anyone but you."

"This isn't a conversation I want to have with my supervisor," Killian mumbled, picking up the jacket from his suit. "I'm going back to work."

Eric cleared his throat. "You want me to be your supervisor? Fine. I'm your supervisor. I'm your boss and you screwed up on the pitch this morning to the department of transportation. That ferry boat deal is probably all of our house and rent payments this month. It would have helped the company make payroll alone. And you not only insulted that potential client, but you didn't even realize it. You called him a wanker and a buggering fool. Then you seemed shocked when the man walked out of the meeting."

Killian sighed. "I apologize," he said, shoulders slumped. "I was distracted."

"I know. That's why I was trying to give you a chance to talk it out and see if we could fix things with you and Emma." Eric pushed the back of his chair to the point he almost sent it toppling to the ground. "I could fire you over those comments, but instead I'm going to tell you to go get your keys and find that woman. Apologize that it took this long to contact her. Tell her you want to know the truth. And listen to her. Just listen."

The coat was over his arm, already wrinkling from the disregard of the material. "I was thinking the same thing, mate," he said. "Perhaps I should drive to the station to see her."

***AAA***

She considered calling him, but it was not a conversation that she wanted to have over the phone. David was right that her silence seemed to only confirm that she had things to hide and was just waiting for the inevitable discovery. His silence seemed to indicate that he was aware of that. So she would go to him, she decided with David's clear and strong influence. It wasn't a big plan or even a calculated one. It was just something she needed to do.

She was stalled at a traffic light that did not seem to want to turn green when she saw him turn in front of her, his jeep easily making the turn as she sat and watched. For a second she did nothing and then, hoping that one of her co-workers was not in the vicinity to give her a citation, she made an illegal u-turn and pulled behind him with a tap of her horn. She couldn't make out his eyes in the rearview mirror, but she could detect the shift of his head and his quick maneuver to pull to the side of the road and jump from the vehicle with his keys in his hand.

"I was coming to you," he said as if she might not realize his intention. "I should have come sooner, but I'm an idiot." He stood there just at the left of her car, waiting for her to close the door and walk toward him. She could see him tense as she made that move, perhaps expecting her to be angry or even slap him.

"I kind of assumed you were waiting for me," she said, nervously tittering with a laugh. "After all, I'm the one who got called out for my past and for what a reporter assumed was some elicit event with a co-worker. I should have come to you and explained. I shouldn't have…" She couldn't quite hold still, shifting her weight nervously and shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans. This wasn't something she did regularly. Apologizing was one thing, but fixing things was something new all together. She usually would have taken this as a sign that it was broken beyond repair.

"Are we really going to discuss who should have approached whom?" he asked. "We both had and have things we need to say. From the looks of it, we are ready to say them." He had not bothered with an overcoat despite the cold air of November surrounding them, but she was even less prepared with a thin sweater that left her skin exposed to the wind. Taking a step toward her, he reached his hands out into the openness of the air for her. "Shall we find a place to go and talk, love? Or at least a place to warm up? Do you have the time?"

Slightly amused that he could think she would be done after they saw each other, she nodded. "David told me not to come back to work until I talked with you and worked this out."

The similarity in the situation too funny for him, he laughed. "Eric said the same to me. Perhaps we could go to my place. It is a bit closer."

She followed behind him in her car, trying to figure out just what to say. While he had smiled at her and looked hopeful, she knew now more than ever that he must have been hurting and thinking that she had done something with Graham. Though flattering to have someone be jealous, the sheer relief in his eyes upon seeing her was enough to tell her that it wasn't worth the momentary ego boost to put him through anything of the sort.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" he asked as they walked through his front door. "Something to eat? I haven't even bothered with a meal yet myself."

She shook her head, feeling almost shy to be standing there when there was still so much unsaid between them. Her hands busily pulled her blonde hair over one shoulder, fingers combing through it as she waited on him to emerge from the narrow kitchen with two bottles of water as she suspected he would. He murmured something about she might change her mind as he opened both and placed them on the old world wood coffee table.

The backs of his legs were against the low seat of his couch as he half bent and then waited for her to either join him or propose some other location. She gave in and walked around the table to sit, leaving a small gap between them that felt very much like a chasm as wide as any she had ever seen.

She considered saying that he probably wondered why she wanted to meet, but that seemed a bit too flippant and not respectful. He didn't seem to waiting for her to start anyway, as he had scurried out of the way to grab a throw blanket from the back of a worn leather chair and held it out to her cautiously.

"You're still shivering," he commented, tenderness evident in the way he placed it over her shoulders and then closed it together. "Can't have you getting sick." His sad smile faded as she pulled the blanket tighter and held it together with her hand, hiding the other beneath the material. He cleared his throat. "Well, now then, we should chat."

She nodded slowly, watching him lower himself onto the couch with respect for the chasm she had created. He settled and resettle three times before he rested one ankle on the opposite knee and lifted the water to his lips. "I should start," she said quietly. "I am sorry that this article appeared. I'm sure you've not been too happy to be associated with someone…someone like me."

His brow furrowed as he listened to her, not wanting to interrupt and unable to process what she was saying without reading more into it. "I'm not sure I follow," he admitted when the silence dragged on to indicate she wanted him to say something. "Why would you think I wouldn't want to be associated with you? Haven't you been paying attention? Haven't you seen that I do want to be with you Emma? If that's what you're worried about, I'd dare say I must not have been doing or saying the right things. I think you are bloody brilliant. You are strong and beautiful, love. You're a fighter, but you're so loving at the same time. I've never met anyone quite like you. And the beautiful thing is that I only am just getting to know you. I can't wait to know even more about you."

She didn't realize that she had held her breath as he said all those things. She was the girl who was never enough, the girl who was never the first choice. "I didn't sleep with Graham," she said in a barely audible voice. "I know the article and photos…I didn't steal the money and I wasn't trying to work with him to steal it. We were honestly working on a case I've been struggling with and he was offering some ideas. That's all. I just didn't want David to know I couldn't handle it alone. I didn't want…"

"You don't have to explain," he said, cutting her off. "Emma, as much as I hate imagining you with anyone else, I don't…I haven't…We haven't defined or set any ground rules here. So while it kills me to think of the two of you together and even more to think that you would prefer someone else to me…I know that you are free to make such a choice. And I can't blame myself for that." His breath coming through his nose sounded forced.

"Are you done?"

"Done?"

"Killian, I am not interested in Graham. You're the only one I'm interested in, okay? He's a friend. He's a co-worker. We were talking about a missing woman and her fiancé. He was suggesting what to ask because I hit a dead end." She rolled her eyes at the way he looked almost embarrassed to have needed that assurance from her. "To borrow a phrase," she said with a laugh. "I kind of think you're bloody brilliant too."

He bit his lip to keep from laughing at the adorable and yet hilariously inaccurate portrayal of his own accent. "I'm a daft fool," he said after he squelched that urge. "Emma, I know you aren't who they portrayed you as in that bloody article. I know that. You didn't have to tell me. I have been so worried about you. I didn't want you to face this alone, but that's where I was wrong. I should have been there for you instead of trying to figure out if you wanted me to be."

She scooted herself a bit closer, relishing the scents of his apartment that reminded her of him. "I want you to be with me," she confirmed softly. "I like you being here with me."

He finished closing the gap, cradling her face in his hands. "I like you being here with me too." His lips brushed on her forehead. "Everything that has happened between us means something to me, something important to me, just as you do."

She closed her eyes, her head tilting to chase the warmth of his palm. "People are going to talk," she said softly. "They already are. They think I did those things. They think that I'm just using you so that Graham could get away with this. But they…"

"I don't care what they think, love," he said, running his thumbs over her. "I care about you, Emma. I wouldn't abandon you to fend for yourself in this matter unless you asked me to leave. I hope you don't, but you know I respect you. And as for this case that has you so worked up, I have no doubt that you will succeed in that too. You will find that lass and her fiancé."

***AAA***

David had been right, Emma thought as she crossed another file off of her list. It was easier to concentrate without the questions of what Killian was thinking about the article and her. She felt lighter, though she was no closer to solving either the case or her own problem with the public. It would take time, David and Killian both told her. And she was trying to believe they were right.

She was checking the travel logs of the sisters' company when she heard a feminine voice state her name. Looking up, the white blonde hair of Elsa seemed bright under the newly replaced florescent lights. The woman looked quite a bit smaller with her features more delicate in the coldness of the station.

"I was going to call you," Emma said, feeling a bit ashamed at her abrupt departure.

The woman held up a hand, her long fingers splayed out to stop Emma's confession. "I am the one who needs to apologize," she said. Looking about the empty office area, Elsa moved to the desk with a graceful motion and sat on the edge of a chair that usually held few visitors. "Emma, I am afraid I've been a bit rough on you."

"You're going through a lot with your sister and all," Emma tried to empathize. While Emma did not even know if she had any siblings, she knew that the loss of one had to be great.

"No excuses," Elsa said in a clipped voice. "I owe you an explanation though and maybe it will help us find my sister."

Hands poised over the computer keyboard, Emma let them drop as she settled in to hear what the woman had to say. There was something, Emma knew, that Elsa had been holding back. A detail or a clue that might have better results.

"My sister is everything to me," Elsa said as if announcing some big secret. "The company, the property, the money, all of it is nothing without her. I'm sure it doesn't seem that way, but it's true. She's it for me. Her being missing is pure and utter hell for me. You're right. The longer she's gone. The longer it takes to find her, the more I realize that I can't trust anyone. All those people at the party? Someone has to know something. Someone had to have seen something. And yet nobody has a clue. Nobody says anything."

Emma nodded, feeling the woman's frustration. "I've been going through the company personnel files. You guys do thorough background checks on everyone. I can't see any of the employees doing something to her. It seems that they all love her as much as you do." Emma watched the cloud return to the woman's face.

"Do you know what it's like to be alone like this?" she asked, her fingers running along the strap of her handbag. "I mean I read the article about you. Is that true that you grew up in foster care? You never even met your parents?"

Emma confirmed that with a gentle bob of her head.

"I had parents up until a few years ago, but now…Now it is just me and Anna. And Anna isn't that interested in keeping our parents' dreams alive. She wants to, but she doesn't know how. She doesn't know what it takes to make all this work. She doesn't…I wouldn't want her to know. I wouldn't want her to have to see the looks people give me when I try to run the board meeting. I wouldn't want her to walk into her office and hear people talking about her and calling her a bitch because she won't approve some expense that is way over budget. She's managed to escape all that. I plan to keep it that way." She tugged harder on the scrap. "I know what it's like. I know how horrible it is to arrive home and know that everything that happened that day is meaningless because nobody else understands. Nobody else knows how you feel."

Emma flashed a slow smile. "I guess that must be hard for you too. It must make you miss your sister a great deal."

Elsa touched her finger to the corners of her eyes. "I didn't mean to get emotional about this," she said with an uneven laugh. "When I first reported my sister as missing, I heard what people said. People in this town were saying she ran away because of me. Because maybe I was too hard on her. Because maybe I was controlling. And as nice as Sheriff Nolan was, it felt like his promises were empty when instead of taking over the case himself, he handed it to you."

The muscles in her body tensed at the sharpness of Elsa's words, but she sort of understood too. Elsa had been hoping for the cavalry, expecting more help than she would know what to with. Instead she got an overworked and relatively new deputy who seemed to have a scandal following her.

"But you're like me in more ways than I can always acknowledge. You're a strong woman and I haven't given you credit for that." She drew in a breath as if to signal that had been a tough thing to say. "Well, I guess I should tell you what I came here to say."

"Thank you," Emma said, cocking her head to the side. "I really do want to find your sister."

"That makes two of us. Now, let's talk about people my sister has known. Starting with the man she was engaged to before Kris. His name is Hans."


	13. Chapter 13

**_A/N: Hope you're enjoying this story. To answer some questions, yes, soon we will know who stole the money, where are Anna and Kristof, and who revealed that information about Emma._**

 ** _My laptop decided to die this week and my new one won't be ready until this weekend. So updates might be a little slow._**

True to her word, Elsa was quite forthcoming with information about her sister, Hans, and Kris, providing Emma with intimate details of what had been said and the appearance of their relationships. "I can assure you that no threats were made overtly," Elsa told Emma that evening as they sat in the station's conference/storage room and looked at the hastily drawn family tree. "Hans and his brothers are brutes and cocky, but they wouldn't be so stupid as to make their intentions known."

The foam container beside her now empty of the fries and sandwiches that the two ladies had ordered in from Granny's, Emma tapped the hollow box with her pen. "He's not a great suspect, but he's all we've got at the moment. I am just trying to consider a motive. Kidnapping is ordinarily about money and not unrequited love or revenge for a relationship gone wrong."

"I don't know why he would do it either," Elsa agreed, the pink eraser of the pencil she had been using to draw the convoluted family tree was pressed to one cheek. "Hans is all about his family's money and standing, but if he kidnapped her he certainly hasn't issued a ransom demand. That's kind of a missed opportunity. That's the reason he wanted to marry Anna to begin with was to merge our families and their assets. You see, Hans and his brothers are all partners in their father's shipping business. They have been making moves over recent years to include a cruise line into their fleet. I suppose he thought that since we own those ski resorts, he could waltz in and make some sort of partnership between the two family companies."

"Shipping?" Emma asked. "Do they do business here in Storybrooke?"

Elsa twisted her mouth in concentration. "Well, I think they still do. Las time I saw him Hans was inspecting some sort of small scale boat at the Storybrooke Marina. It is supposed to be able to hold more crates than some of the smaller boats out there that most companies use but have better control over getting into some of these narrow harbors and inlets along the east coast. I know he was impressed by them and was trying to talk to the ship manufacturer about lowering the price if he bought more than the normal order. He's always about negotiating everything."

The deputy realized that the company in question had to be Killian's employer. "I think I might know someone at that company," Emma said, pulling her phone in front of her and typing out a message to him. "Maybe he can give us an idea as to what Hans has been up to lately."

Elsa shrugged her shoulders, and looked back at the stack of papers the two women had printed out. Using a highlighter, she marked certain passages as Emma's phone rang almost immediately.

"Hey," Emma said. "I guess you're not busy if you're calling this fast." She knew that her smile was probably not her most professional, but it seemed a natural state when she heard his voice. Anyway, she was sitting in a conference room with the family member of a missing person eating take out and talking about possible suspects. Standard operating procedure and protocol was already out the door.

"I got a call from a fair damsel in distress," he said, the cheekiness of his demeanor shining through even without sight. "What do you need, love? Can I bring you anything? Distract you from the doldrums of your day? Whisk you away for a while and pretend the world doesn't exist?"

"All wonderful options," Emma said, dropping her eyes from the not so subtle sight of Elsa listening in to the one side of the conversation that she could hear and pretending not to with an amused smirk. "I was actually going to ask for your professional expertise."

She could imagine him cracking his knuckles as he sat back and stretched his interlocked hands and arms over his head. "Anything for you, love. Are you in the market for a finely crafted sailing vessel?"

Rolling her eyes, she resisted the urge to laugh. "Actually, I need to find out about a potential client of yours. Someone named Hans who…"

"Sure," Killian said, interrupting. "Hans and his brothers run Southern Isles Shipping. A small outfit, but pretty successful. He was interested in a few new ones recently and tried to talk me out of a commission on them. Fortunately, I was able to pull off the sale and make some money." He paused. "Are you going to ask me how I did that?"

"If my investigation was into your sales technique, I would," Emma assured him. "But I'm afraid I'm more interested in learning about Hans and what he was doing."

"Horrible bloke with the personality of a dead fish," Killian offered. "He's a complete idiot when it comes to even the most basic of shipping terms and even worse when it comes to money. He throws around words like profit margin, but I doubt he actually knows what they mean."

"Did he pay cash for these boats or were they financed?" Emma asked, not quite sure why that was important but feeling that it was an appropriate question to ask. At least it kept her mind off of what Killian looked like as he was talking to her or how his voice was just as intoxicating even without his breath warm against her ear.

Killian grunted as if the very act of trying to remember the details in some fog of a memory of men and women who had bought boats from him over the past little bit. "Cash," he said finally. "He went through this whole thing about needing to apply for credit. We told him he needed a co-signer. We push through the paperwork and then the little weasel came in with the cash. Not even a cashier's check. It was green paper money. Never made mention of where it came from or who might have helped him out of that jam."

"Interesting," Emma commented, her eyes shielded by her hand resting on her forehead. "If you think of anything that might be helpful, please let me know."

"Of course, love," he said softly. "Is there anything you need? I could do with seeing you tonight."

"Maybe later," she said as she finished saying goodbye and turned her attention back to Elsa.

"Any information from your boyfriend?" Elsa asked in what Emma would probably describe as her best innocent voice.

"Hans did make the purchase, but used cash. Killian wasn't sure where he got the money since he had been talking about using credit."

The older sister was not too sure what to make of that news and let it slip, turning her focus back to the project at hand. Elsa pointed with a long finger to the family tree she had drawn, explaining how Hans and his brothers had become the shipping magnates they were in details that were probably way too specific for Emma's benefit. She even sketched his likeness, exaggerating his sideburns that she said were a trade mark of his.

"He's a pompous and arrogant man," she explained with a flourish of her hand toward the small caricature. "I know we've just talked about this, but I just don't know that he's capable of kidnapping or whatever this is."

Emma chewed at her bottom lip, trying not to breathe in the dusty air too deeply. They had commandeered the small conference room that spent most of its life as storage space. Boxes leaned precariously with lids askew and papers hanging out. Elsa had shyly asked if that was what they did with all evidence, which Emma admitted was a valid point given the condition of the room.

"Men don't like women to dump them or being replaced," she said thoughtfully. "I would imagine that if Hans has any ego at all, Anna leaving him and becoming involved with Kris a short time later was probably not an easy blow. Does he have a temper?"

Elsa might have been a little friendlier to Emma, admitting that she could see a bit of herself in the other blonde, but she was still very careful with her words and thought each one through carefully. "He angers easily, but I couldn't say he was violent. I've never seen him strike Anna or even threaten to do so. Call her names, maybe. Withhold affection, certainly. But he never hurt her physically."

Emma drew a breath as she heard the familiar refrain. "Those other things are abusive as well," she said, not wanting to rock the tremulous partnership that had been formed so far. "But let's get back to the money situation. You said he was interested in some sort of an agreement with your family's company."

***AAA***

Emma wondered how she was going to make it into her apartment from her car, as the weight of the day and her exhaustion were weighing heavily on her. She and Elsa had stayed cooped up in that space until way past midnight, questioning each other and themselves on any possible scenario. If it wasn't so cold outside, she would have already removed the leather boots that were now pinching her feet and padded barefoot into the apartment where she hoped to have enough energy to fall into bed instead of on the couch or floor.

She used both of her hands on the metal railing to push herself up the last of the stairs and onto the landing with a grunt of protest for her aching muscles. That was when she saw him outside her door. He was curled into a ball with his leather jacket as a pillow and a canvas tote next to him. His hair was mussed with evidence that he had been running his fingers through the dark lochs. Kneeling next to him, she pushed back a few of the stray strands from his forehead and said his name gently.

His eyes fluttered open with a confused gaze at her. "I didn't mean to fall asleep, but it is nighttime and we are meant to do that."

"What are you doing in my hallway?" she asked, rubbing her hand over the red indentations from his jacket and sleeve on his left cheek. The prickle of his whiskers felt like a comfortable hello from him though she had never really been partial to men with facial hair before him. She could always take it or leave it. "I could have just texted to say I got home safe."

"Missed you," he mumbled, his hand circling her wrist and turning his face up toward hers. "Least you could do is kiss me awake."

She held back a full laugh out of respect for her neighbors. "Who do you think you are now? Sleeping beauty? Snow White? I kiss you to wake you up and we live happily ever after?" She shook her head slightly before pecking his lips with her own. There was a cocked eyebrow to say to him that his plan wasn't working.

"I think we could write our own fairy tale perhaps," he said, returning to his sitting position and then stumbling up to standing. "Make it quite an adventure."

She again shook her head and fished her keys back out of her pocket to let them inside. "I think we should start by getting you a key," she said, not missing the raised eyebrow he shot her at the implication of such an act. "If you're going to insist on showing up here to surprise me then we might as well give you a more comfortable spot to rest than the hallway floor. People are going to think you're a bum. So are you going to tell me why you're here?"

He shrugged, helping her out of her own jacket and placing it on the hooks beside the door along with his own. "I missed you, love. Can't blame me for that. It has been quite a day what with my idiocy about not contacting you and letting you face that awful article alone." He winced. "And I was a bit worried about you?"

She sat on the couch and tugged inelegantly at her boots, sighing in relief when she was free of them. "Worried?"

"Love, there is someone or a group of someone's trying to hurt you," he said. "They even followed you and took photos that were made to look like you were up to things."

She smirked that he was unable or unwilling to say what he wanted to say about what she had been up to in all that. "You do realize that between the two of us, I'm the one who is authorized to carry a weapon. I'm the one who has taken classes and had all the training and experience. You sell boats."

"I'm quite impressed with your skills, love," he said, bopping her nose with a pointed index finger. "If I am ever in such a quandary, I will make sure you are my first call. Doesn't mean I am willing to sit and ignore a threat to you." He smiled warmly. "I hope you will allow that."

She reached back, unfastening the clip that held her hair into place and let it fall over her shoulders. "I think I might be able to be convinced, but I should warn you I'm not that good at these things."

He pulled her up from her seated position, chest to chest, one his hands coming to rest on her hip and the other at her neck in her hair. "I don't think there is anything you can't do, love. You never cease to amaze me."

Her eyes fluttered down. "I'm not good at asking people for help," she told him. "I'm usually opposed to it so you're going to have to be patient with me about that."

"Of course," he said. He turned his head to the clock there by her couch. "It's late. I should let you get some sleep." Brushing his lips against her forehead, he held her there for a moment. "Sleep well, Swan."

She craned her neck back to look at him. "You came over here to wish me a good night? Now you're going home?" The confusion was evident.

"I don't wish to overstep my bounds. You need rest and I merely wanted to see you. You must admit it has been a tiring day."

She pinched her mouth together as though she was thinking of how to talk to him about something difficult. "I know I'd sleep better if you stayed here with me," she said in a soft voice that sounded almost musical to him. "What do you say? This is me asking for your help."

He chuckled lightly, still holding her close to him. "Since you are requesting my assistance and I just offered to help in any way that I could…"

"Killian?" she asked, trying to keep him from rambling since she was feeling very much like she could fall asleep at any moment.

"Aye, darling?"

"Shut up and come to bed," she laughed. "You can be noble again in the morning."

***AAA***

If there was a better sensation that waking up with Emma in his arms, Killian was not sure what it was or how he could find out about it. He had no complaints about any of their bedroom activities, which they had managed to fit in after just an hour or so of sleep. She had admitted that she was much better at expressing herself physically than with words, which he had no issue with when it came to her. He was clearly becoming addicted to every aspect of her. He enjoyed the way she moaned and sighed with each bit of attention he could muster and the way her eyes fluttered shut just as pleasure reached an explosive point in her body. The sated smile that graced her lips when the most physical part of their coupling was through always made his own heart flutter with pride and satisfaction, knowing that she was happy and pleased.

But his favorite was to wake before her and watch her sleep there in his arms. She was not twisted in the sheet as she was normally, but instead using his chest as a pillow. He could feel her breath against his skin and feel the way her eyelashes moved when she was dreaming. He let the tips of his fingers travel up and down the length of her spine and lose themselves in the golden hair that tended to be thrown back in the midst of her passionate release.

"Early," she mumbled just minutes before her alarm. "Go back to sleep."

It was one of the things he had learned about her. She was not a morning person and hated the very thought of waking up before the incessant beeping of her alarm. There was something almost cat like about her in how she would stretch and hum herself awake, not opening her eyes until she was fully ready.

When the beeping clock woke her, she slapped it and pouted. "I was having a nice dream," she muttered, wrapping her arm over his waist and burying her face into his shoulder and neck. "Don't make me get up."

He wondered for a moment if she had been this way as a teenager. Was she that reluctant to wake up, a pretty pouting face, a tough exterior, a soft goodness when you got to know her? He wished that he had known her then, been able to protect her from the pain that had obviously infiltrated her life. He couldn't imagine not wanting her, not holding and cherishing her. It was a great mystery to him why anyone would have rejected her at all.

And now with the thoughts that someone was trying to hurt her with a revisionist theory of the past, he was ready to fight any that stood in the way. She was a marvel to him, a beautiful example of tenacity and hard work. He swore to himself that she wouldn't come to any harm because of someone's vendetta or idea of fun.

"You look too serious," she said, her voice heavy from sleep. "What are you thinking?"

"Nothing important," he said, stifling his own yawn. He had not lied when he said that their day had been long, as it had not been a fun experience to have her so close at mind and wonder what was going on with her. And he had not slept all that well, worrying about her and hoping that whatever the mess they found themselves in was not as serious as he had feared.

"Don't do that," she warned. "You want me to be open with you, you should be open with me." She looked more awake, ready to challenge his behavior.

"I suppose I owe you that same courtesy." He felt her shift so that she could see him, her hand flat on his lower chest and her chin on the back of it. "Emma, I am simply worried about you, love. The article is one thing, but clearly someone was trying to hurt you. They delved into your past. They followed you. They…They could have done so much worse. And I was too busy being shocked and hurt to do anything to stop them."

She closed her eyes, breathing in through her nose as his hand combed through her hair. "I'm fine," she told him, repeating it in a firmer voice. "Yes, it sucks. And yes, I'd love to know who did it. I'd probably punch them for it. But I'm okay. We're both okay."

His smile was a bit shaky. "I'm trying to believe that, Emma."

She pushed herself up to sitting, swatting his hands away as the sheet dipped to reveal a bit more of her skin and the tops of her breasts. "You think on it in the shower," she told him. "I thought I'd make us some breakfast before we go prove to our bosses that we are capable of doing our jobs without the hysterics of missing each other."

He puffed out his breath and chest resentfully. "I wasn't in hysterics. I merely missed you and may have lost my temper when some bloke proved his IQ was closer to his shoe size."

Rolling her eyes, she swatted at him again, only for him to catch her hand and place each finger to his lips one by one. "Don't distract me," she warned, earning herself a slow brush of his lips against her palm and then at the pulse point of her wrist. "I have to get to work, Killian. So do you."

"Mmmmhmmm…." he mumbled, climbing higher up her arm.

She pulled away slightly with a chastising grin. "That may work for Gomez Adams, but I'm not Morticia. I'm going to make breakfast while you shower. Then we'll switch."

Killian was making use of her shower that morning as she scrambled a few eggs and fried some bacon under the guise that it would be cheaper than Granny's and less likely for them to run into some of the gossip hungry residents of the town. She was just removing the eggs from the heated burner when the familiar pounding on her door jolted her from the thoughts of him naked and just a wall away.

"Well, you're not dead," Ruby said, sliding her sunglasses up to rest on her head full of raven hair. "I was beginning to wonder since you aren't answering text messages."

"We were worried," added Mary Margaret. "There's someone out there trying to ruin your life and you don't answer the phone. It made us worry."

"I'm fine," Emma said, stepping aside as the two women entered the apartment and shed their coats and scarves onto a chair. Both of them were complaining about the bitterness of the wind that morning when Ruby raised an eyebrow at the breakfast piled high on the table and Mary Margaret's ears perked at the sound of Killian's singing in the shower.

"Better than fine," the women said to each other with knowing smirks as they realized they both said it at the same time.

Emma rolled her eyes. "You expected him to be some place else?" Emma asked, a hand on one hip and a cooking utensil still in the other hand. "Ruby, I'm disappointed in you. You have a wild imagination."

"I was distracted," Ruby said, pouting her lips and settling her arms over her chest. "But you'll still want to hear what I have to say. I have information about the investigation into the stolen money."

Emma walked back into the kitchen and placed the cooking spoon down as she gathered a few condiments for their breakfast. "What would you know about that?"

Mary Margaret chewed her lip nervously as Ruby milked the dramatic pause. "Mayor Mills hired an investigator. Someone from New York to come in and question everyone and go through the records." She lifted a hand to inspect a nail. "He's someone you know and want to avoid."

Emma sighed. "I am supposed to guess."

Mary Margaret elbowed her way past Ruby and sighed. "Emma, it's Neal. He's the investigator. This isn't good news."

 ** _A/N: Some of you have guessed that I would bring Neal back in with this story. I thought I would in a different kind of a way. Hope you enjoyed that twist._**


	14. Chapter 14

**_Another chapter for you lovely, lovely people. Yes, you'll get to see Emma's reaction to Neal and maybe a little more of bad ass Emma with Killian trying to be supportive but not too overbearing. I hope you enjoy!_**

Emma didn't even remember taking her shower, the water not feeling either hot or cold and the towel not leaving a memorable impression either. She made it through the motions, trying not to create statements and imaginary conversations in her mind about how that pending meeting with Neal would go for her. It was hard, as the imagined conversations had played out many times. She had been cruel. She had been forgiving. She had cried. She had laughed. But none of them had ever happened.

"Your imagined response will always be worse than the reality," she muttered to herself, wiping the steam from the mirror over the sink. "It's going to be fine."

She was finishing off the long braid she had fashioned her hair into when she entered the living area of her apartment and saw Killian adding the finishing touches to her breakfast while Ruby and Mary Margaret argued quietly over which one of them should have the pleasure of slapping the man in question. Watching them unnoticed for a moment, Emma took in the sight of Killian's outwardly calm demeanor except for the tense line to his jaw and his hand continually running back through his hair. She had no doubt that he was concerned, not only for her but their relationship. An ex reappearing rarely was a welcome addition. So despite her own qualms about Neal's arrival, she joined the group and placed her hand along Killian's arm and kissed his cheek before settling herself with the breakfast plate that now included fruit, toast, and some sort of jam that she didn't remember having purchased before.

"Better?" he asked. He smelled of her body wash and shampoo, which made her smile at the fact he was that comfortable.

"A shower always helps me clear my head," she said, looking toward the two friends who had brought her the news that morning. "So is there anything else I should know?"

Ruby folded her hands in her best pose to break bad news. "He's staying at Granny's," she said, once again explaining her own surprise over the man's arrival. "And not alone."

"Of course he's not alone," Emma said snidely. Oh sure she had hoped that his existence since their last interaction was a miserable one. What ex didn't think such thoughts and hope for a better life for herself than her former lover? But she was aware of the man he was and that he was never one who lacked for company.

"Her name is Tamera and from the ring she's sporting, I'm saying probably engaged for a few weeks with a destination wedding in the works for spring or summer." Ruby looked proud as Mary Margaret shook her head and mumbled about wasted talent for reading people. "She's attractive, but you know not in a drop dead gorgeous kind of way. If you ask me, she's a step down from you. Her outfit was horrible. I haven't actually talked to her, but I didn't pick up on a sparkling personality either."

"Ruby!" Mary Margaret admonished as Emma lowered her eyes to the cup of coffee and tried to remember if she had already added the sugar. "The poor girl just got into town and is allegedly engaged to a jerk. We should be warning her or at least feeling sorry for her." She made a tsk sound with her tongue until Ruby rolled her eyes in frustration.

"I'm more concerned with having to deal with him than her," Emma admitted. "I don't understand Regina calling him in. This is a bad idea. He is too close to the people in this investigation. He knows me, David, and Graham. How on earth can he be impartial?"

"Regina contacted a firm," Mary Margaret said, relaying what David had told her after the panicked call from Ruby had woken them up. "David thought she'd have better sense but obviously not. He was planning to warn you this morning since you worked so late last night. I told him that I would come over instead."

"I didn't realize…" she had began, her head feeling heavy and her hands wrapped around the cup of coffee that she had been staring into for a few minutes. "I thought he'd stay away. He always swore he'd never come back here as long as his father was still around. I wonder what changed."

"Regina's probably paying him a pretty penny to do this, make it look legit for the voters so that David will win," Ruby declared hostilely. She shot an apologetic glance at Mary Margaret. "Regina is a smart woman and a consummate politician, but the woman has the social graces of an elephant. It wouldn't occur to her that you might not want to have to answer questions from your ex who freaking sent you to jail for a crime he committed."

Killian closed his eyes for a moment, feeling a bit overwhelmed at the information. "Would you like someone to go with you to this interview?" he asked. "I suppose a lawyer might be appropriate or maybe just a friend?" He wasn't sure how Emma was going to do in a stressful situation that was clearly presenting itself.

"I'm fine," she said, a mantra that she had repeated over the years to the point that it no longer sounded convincing to herself. She gave him a smile before turning her face to Mary Margaret. "How's David reacting to this?"

The teacher nodded slowly. "He's not happy about it either. You bore the brunt of Neal's actions, but David was hurt too. He was not looking forward to seeing him this morning." She wrinkled her nose with and squinted her eyes in anticipation for what she needed to say next. "Is Regina aware of who he is? I mean not just Mr. Gold's son, but…"

"Her son's father," Emma said dully. She lifted the mug to her lips and then lowered it again without taking a sip. "I don't think so. When Regina wanted to open communication up with me, I explained I was not in contact with him. His parental rights were terminated after the court couldn't find him and it was declared as an abandonment. His name was not on the paperwork that she received. She didn't seem that interested other than to ask me if he had any mental or physical illnesses that might be hereditary."

Scoffing, Ruby rolled her eyes. "I hope you said that being a selfish bastard is one trait I hope he didn't pass on to your son."

Emma snorted. "I don't think that is hereditary, but I guess when you look at Neal and Mr. Gold and Mr. Gold's own father…maybe it is."

Killian's eyes drifted to the clock on the microwave. "I hate to have you go in there alone, love," he said. "I'm sure I'm not permitted in the actual interview, but what if I just came to the station. I could sit and wait for you?"

"You should get back home and change for work," she told him. "All of you need to just go to work and ignore this for now. I'll go do this interview and try not to punch him. It's fine." To prove her point she placed the mug down with a resounding thump and pushed away from the table. "Maybe we can go have a drink tonight to unwind so I can fill you girls in and we can gossip about how he hasn't aged well and how stupid I was in my youth."

Ruby was already nodding and declaring that they would meet at the Rabbit Hole in her usual and favorite booth. "No excuses," she said warningly to Mary Margaret. "This is mandatory."

The teacher threw up her hands in surrender. "Believe me, after a day of state exams with my class, you better believe I'll be there. I'm dragging David in too."

Killian hesitated at the table, helping Emma to clear away the dishes. "Perhaps I could convince you to at least let me steal you away at lunch? Maybe it would help us unwind a bit after what appears to be setting up as a stressful morning?"

She hesitated, knowing that her instinct was to hide away from everyone after this interview, replaying it in her mind, and being critical of herself for not saying just the right thing. "I would like that," she said. "Now go before I make you wash dishes."

***AAA***

Emma could not see Neal at the desk that was usually occupied by David, but she could tell he was there and hear snippets of the familiar voice. Robin was standing in front of him with his back to the windowed wall.

"You're next," David said, not looking up from the computer that he was staring at. "He's going to interview everyone." There was little emotion in the sheriff's voice as he banged on the computer's keys with his fingers. "I'm sorry. I didn't want her to call him in here. Hell, I didn't even think he'd take the job."

"Not your fault," Emma said. Her hair was braided over her shoulder, a loose and thick style that was a bit more involved than the pony tails she usually wore on work days. She was dressed a little more formally with a dark pair of pants and a button down shirt. Her customary leather jacket was still part of the wardrobe, as were a pair of black leather boots.

"He's not even mentioned anything personal in my interview," David said reassuringly. "I don't know if…"

Emma bit at her lip. "It would be weird if he didn't, right? It would be weird if he pretended like we don't have a history." She ran her hand over a stack of books there on the desk that David was using, knocking them askew and then straightening them out again.

"Very weird," David agreed, sneaking a look at her and softening at how nervous she appeared. "Emma, don't worry. Neal is into self-preservation. He's not going to make himself uncomfortable by bringing up things he doesn't want people to know. After how he treated you, he's got to know that won't make him look good."

She didn't look convinced, but backed away from David's makeshift desk to her own. She was grateful that Ruby and Mary Margaret had stayed through breakfast, though Emma had no appetite after she had to explain to Killian that the arrival of Neal meant that she felt even more judged. The two women seemed to understand that invisible line of panic and pain that seemed to accompany this development even without the added pressure of an investigation. "Did Elsa call?" she asked, hoping that the change in subject wasn't too abrupt for her boss. "She was considering a press conference tomorrow morning to put some word out about the search and how we need people to offer what they know."

David tapped a finger impatiently as he looked around the much smaller desk. "Yes," he said, drawing out the word a bit. "Here it is. Her PR person said noon tomorrow in front of the station."

Nodding, Emma took the post-it note from David and stared at the familiar scrawl. "You going to be there?"

"It's your case," he reminded her. "But if you want me there, I'll show." That was the David she knew, but she also knew his father wasn't as easy going.

"Your dad wants you there?"

He snorted his response and pushed back from the desk to look at her. "My father is a publicity whore who probably would eat it up if I showed up at the press conference – in uniform and looking stern of course. But it's not really my tactic. You're working the case. If you need the press attention to solve it, then go for it. Just tell me what you need from me, okay?"

Emma nodded slowly. "I'll let you know," she added, backing away from the desk and turning to her own. She heard his voice louder then.

"Emma? I'm going to grab some coffee. Are you ready to chat with me about this case?" She cringed inwardly and hoped that her face did not show the sick feeling in her stomach. Inside her head she was already answering that she had nothing to say to him and nothing to add to the discussion, but outwardly she nodded.

"I'll be right there," she said, feeling all of the eyes on her as she walked as steadily as she could into the office that Robin had vacated. Her feet felt heavy and her hands numb as she sat down on the chair and watched him return with the foam cup of coffee that left very little room for the sugar and non-dairy creamer he was throwing in there. He had not looked up at her yet, eyeing his cup carefully instead.

"I should have offered you some," he finally said, lifting the cup and spilling a few drops in the process. His solution was to mop it up with a blank piece of paper rather than search for a napkin or towel. "Can I get you anything? That sounds strange since this is your office not mine."

"I'm fine," she said, repeating the standard line like a mantra. "So what do you need to ask me?"

He smirked, revealing the lines near his eyes that seemed a little deeper to her now. He was still handsome in his casual kind of way. His facial hair seemed more neatly trimmed than she remembered and there was a bit of gray at the temples that she didn't remember from years ago. His eyes still had that way of always looking as though he was smiling, even when his lips were turned downward. "Getting right to it," he said with a little nod. "I guess I can't blame you for not wanting to take a trip down memory lane."

"I assumed you'd be busy," she answered, resting her hands on her knees with a careful perch. "If you'd rather chat, I'm up for that too."

"I have wondered about you," he said, not yet opening the file on the desk between them. He was running a finger on the edges of it. "You seem to be doing okay. Good job. Good life."

Emma did not confirm or deny his assessment. "You know what my life is like?" she asked. "I would think you were too busy to worry about that." She knew she sounded bitter, but there was something about him acting as though his appearance was about her and not job related.

Palms put to her, he tilted his head in concession. "I asked David about all of the employees in the department. Just as part of the investigation, you understand. He said that you were happy, seeing someone I think he said. That's great."

She made a mental note to slap David for making a comment about her personal life to Neal, but kept her face stoic. "I'm happy. I'll be happier when we finish this interrogation."

"Interview," he corrected mindlessly. "It's interesting, isn't it Em?"

She again felt her stomach sour with the use of his nickname for her. "What's interesting?"

"Me and you," he said with a smile as though their names belonged together like peanut butter and jelly. "Both of us went from living in a stolen car to being in law enforcement in a way. Interesting, right?"

She narrowed her eyes. "What is the question, Neal?"

***AAA***

"It didn't feel as good to be rude as I thought it would," Emma said, biting into the slice of pizza. Killian had arrived about 20 minutes after her interview with Neal had ended. His expression friendly as he held her jacket out for her and greeted David with a quick nod and promise that she would be back in time for Elsa's press conference. While she had assumed that he meant to take her to Granny's or one of the little coffee shops turned delis, she had been surprised by his choice.

In the back seat of the jeep was a pizza box that was kept warm by the seat warmer. He had a bottle of soda, two cups, and a container of still hot garlic bread. He'd smiled proudly when she told him it was the best Italian restaurant that she'd ever been to before.

"It rarely is, love," Killian answered, taking a big sip of his soda. "We all have those people in our lives, but their reactions are never what we want them to be."

She chewed for a second, thinking about all the things she had said and what she had wanted to say. "I'm not sure he believes I'm not involved, but I didn't remind him of how crappy it was to leave me to take the rap for him. He didn't bring that up either."

Killian leaned his head back against the seat, brushing a crumb from the corner of his mouth. "Would you want him to apologize for that? I would think that any such attempt would be lacking and not satisfying at all."

"I wanted him to stay gone," Emma said. "I can't believe he sat there and acted like it was just another ordinary day for him. He acted as though I should too." She shook her head. "I am not that strong, I guess."

"I don't think it has to do with your strength, as you are a strong lass, but it's more in terms of heartless. He seems to be quite cold and heartless to not even acknowledge you might have issues with him since his actions sent you to jail."

"I don't really know if there is anything we could say to each other, but I wish we didn't have to say anything at all." She shrugged. "I suppose that I have it coming in a way. I haven't exactly been honest with him either." She bit off another bit of the pizza, holding her hand under it to catch the toppings that seemed to want to fall off of it. He was laughing as she and gravity had their usual fight in such situations, holding out a hand to help her retrieve the falling pepperoni, mushrooms, and peppers.

"About your son?" he asked. He had been careful about the subject with her, recognizing that she was not all that open about the situation.

She nodded, her breath a little labored over the idea. "He didn't know I was pregnant when I went to jail. Hell, I didn't know either. It wasn't until I had been there a few weeks…" She broke off and looked out of the window toward the water in front of them. "It wasn't like he showed up for my court date. He was long gone. I made the decision to go with an adoption without him because I didn't have anyone to call or any way to get in touch with him. David searched for weeks when he found out. Ruth even hired a private investigator who said that he might be in Kansas, but there was not any sign of him. I didn't know how to feel about that."

"I'm sure you were quite distressed," Killian offered. Having never been in such a situation himself, he wasn't completely sure he could understand. However, he was trying to be empathetic.

"I thought I loved him," she said, shrugging. "I thought that he was…I never thought it would end the way it did. I don't want to be bitter over it. I just want to matter to him. I wanted to matter." She blinked. "I was too stupid to see that I did matter to Ruth and to David."

"I can tell you all day long that he's a sodding fool for not seeing how lovely you are and how life is so much better with you than without you, but I don't think my words are going to change anything for you. You don't realize how much people care about you, love. And that is the true shame about all of this."

She craned her head back, pursing her lips. "Why do you even put up with me?" she asked. "I'm sure I'm not your definition of a simple girl you picked up in a bar."

"You're not simple or easy to understand or anything less than a challenge," he said, his voice light and playful. "But you are exactly who I want in my life. And I am so thankful that you have been willing – with some coaxing – to let me be in your life too. Because I like my own life better with you in it."

She smiled, shakily but still genuinely. "We kind of skipped over the everything being happy, easy, and fun stage, didn't we?"

"I don't know," Killian answered. "I'm having a lot of fun being with you. And I'm certainly happy."

***AAA***

Hans sat with his lawyer and another man that Emma assumed was his brother thanks to the family resemblance. He offered precious little in the way of information and Emma knew that the eyes of David, Graham, and Robin were all behind that glass wall to listen in on the interrogation.

"When was the last time you saw Anna?" Emma asked again, changing the wording just slightly.

The man turned to his attorney and seemed to speak with his eyes. "I saw her at the gala at the art gallery. She was there and so was I. We did not speak."

The attorney looked admonishingly at him. "Answer the question. Don't supply other details."

Hans nodded and waited for the next question.

"And how would you say that the two of you got along that evening? Were you fighting?"

Again the man consulted his attorney, straightening his rich blue tie before answering. "We did not speak. I merely saw her there."

Emma tapped her pen on the pad of paper in front of her. David had taught her years before that it was a good idea to carry a pad of paper that she could refer to at all times. She rarely needed the notes she made, but they seemed to be a good diversion while she let a suspect sweat. It was always more dramatic to appear to have already mapped out a situation.

"Forgive me," Emma said, smiling sweetly at Hans, "but I'm confused. You were engaged to Anna?"

"Briefly."

Emma consulted her notes again. "This event, gala, whatever, was in honor of her parents?"

"Yes, they were quite the philanthropists." He smiled coyly at her as if she should know these things even without her law enforcement background.

"Yes, of course, but why would you attend if you didn't even speak to your ex-fiancé. I mean if everything was alright between you?"

"You've been asking the same questions for the past half hour Ms. Swan. I suggest that we end this charade and you should interview a real suspect. After all, you are talking about a missing woman and her fiancé, are you not? I would suggest trying to find them rather than just questioning my innocent client."

***AAA***

Elsa's public relations manager was a strict and hardnosed woman who dictated quite a bit about the next day's press conference. David's participation was not questioned, as she said that his presence was required. Emma would be seated to the other side of Elsa and the two women were to look interested and firm while David expressed the wishes of the department. Each moment was scripted, each possible question and answer vetted.

"That was exhausting," Elsa said to Emma as the woman left them alone. "I would never have guessed there are multiple ways to say thank you for attending."

"I think I'm going to need cue cards," Emma muttered. "I am not good at the memorizing thing."

"Neither am I," Elsa admitted, flipping shut the spiral notebook that she carried with her all the time. She flipped her white blonde hair over her shoulder and exhaled slowly. "I don't know what I'm going to do if we don't find her."

"We will," Emma said, holding her own notes in her hands. "I don't give up easily."

"Good," Elsa answered. "I should go. I know you've got a life outside of this office and this case." She wrapped herself in a warm wool coat that tied around her thin waist. "I'll see you tomorrow, I guess."

Emma wondered for a moment how Elsa felt to be going home alone, her sister missing and no friends that had been spoken of. She almost called out to her and asked her to join the group that night, but she knew that it was unlikely to result in anything good. Everyone had warned Emma and the other deputies to keep cases at arms' length. But Emma could see that same loneliness in now Elsa that she had felt all her life. It was that feeling that if she didn't wake up in the morning that nobody would even care. However, Emma just said good evening and watched the woman walk away.

Elsa was just opening the door and Emma was putting on her scarf when the deputy spoke up. "If you're not doing anything, some of us are getting together for a drink tonight. Maybe you can come along?"

***AAA***

"I think we need to talk, Emma," Ruby said, sliding into her seat next to the blonde as David introduced Elsa to Mary Margaret. "I know you're not gushy or sentimental, but would you care to define this whole Killian thing? You have not pushed him away yet, which is great. Disturbing, but great. So what's going on there? I need to know. I need details."

"Why?" Emma asked, her cocktail sliding down her throat easily. "I don't ask you for details."

"If you wanted to know about my sex life, you just have to ask," Ruby said, signaling the bartender for another drink. "I have no secrets in that area."

"So that means I have to talk to you about all this stuff?" she asked. "You want to know about size, girth, and stamina?"

Ruby shrugged nonchalantly, the lace and leather patchwork top she wore sliding down one shoulder. "And kinks too," she said, looking over at Killian who was in a conversation with Robin. "A man like that must be an animal in the bedroom. And you know I need to hear about that. I mean he clearly makes your toes curl."

Placing a hand over her face, Emma muttered a quick prayer for the conversation to end. "What do you know about my toes curling?" she asked. "I know I'm going to regret this answer."

Plucking the olive out of her martini, Ruby looked toward the ceiling. "Well for one," he said, pointing the plastic sword from the drink toward her, "you have been letting him spend the night. That's pretty big for you. You have been known to pull a fire alarm to get a guy to leave before. And if he's spending the night, then I bet there is cuddling and early morning sex. And then he was in your shower this morning? If we hadn't shown up, would you two have done it on the kitchen table? Ewww…we ate there. Don't answer that."

"Couples cuddle," Emma defended, her cheeks rosy red and drawing the attention of Killian who was looking at her curiously. "I've been known to cuddle." Ruby looked skeptical as she sipped on the gin laden drink. "I have!"

"Sure, sure," she said. "I'm just saying that this morning appeared pretty darn domestic. You making breakfast. Him in the shower. Then him finishing the breakfast prep. I noticed things. Like he knows you prefer the whipped butter to the regular on your toast. Or that you put pepper on your eggs."

"He's observant," Emma said, her demeanor a cross between embarrassed and defensive. "You know we're dating. Why are you asking me these things?"

"Because I want to know his secret," the dark haired beauty said. "He's made you smile and giggle more than any of us combined since we met you. I'd say that he deserves a medal for that."

Emma sighed, leaning back against the vinyl seat that had seen better days. "He makes me smile," she conceded in a quiet voice that couldn't possibly be overheard in the loud bar. "But what do I do for him?"

Ruby flipped her hair over her should, pushing away her now empty glass. "I'd say the effects on each other are mutual. Just mention your name and the boy smiles more than a preteen girl on her way to a boyband concert." Without waiting for a response, Ruby left Emma's side and was calling after David to no doubt butt her nose in there too.

The Rabbit Hole was crowded for a weeknight, but Emma was enjoying her friends' company as they tried to talk about anything but the election, Neal, or the investigation. Having declared so many topics off limits, the group used one of the empty beer mugs to collect a dollar from anyone who broached the subjects even inadvertently. There was Ruby not allowing anyone's drink to be less than half full. There was Mary Margaret trying to teach Emma, David, and Killian dance moves she had seen on television that usually resulted in the four of them bumping into each other in fits of laughter. There was David who was searching on his phone in vain for a picture of Emma wearing glasses, which Killian said he would pay good money to see.

Elsa had been quiet at first, but Robin and his friend Will seemed to be doing a fine job breaking her out of her shell. They took turns telling her funny stories and trying to get her to imitate their accents. Even Killian joined in on that a few times, having recognized Will from the same circles as their shared friends. Ruby's sometimes date, Victor, was regaling the masses with tales of medical school that Ruby kept declaring as disgusting.

"You look beautiful when you smile," Killian told her when they broke away from the group to share a dance on the small and crowded floor dedicated for that purpose. "You have good friends."

"As crazy as they are," Emma said, stealing a glance at Victor trying to teach Ruby some elaborate way to drink a shot that he had learned in medical school, "I'd agree with you on that."

"I'm proud to be a part of your group of friends," he continued, leaning forward a bit.

She considered that for a moment, swaying with the melody of a song she wasn't sure she recognized. "I think," she said hesitantly, "you might qualify as more than that." She looked at him curiously, his face barely apart from her own. He seemed to almost be asking her for clarification and reassurance of what they were together.

"Emma, I'm not a needy teenager asking for a label," he said as if he could read her mind.

"Neither am I, but it is awkward sometimes. And maybe I'm done saying that whatever this is will be over tomorrow." She didn't want to elaborate on that and thankfully he didn't press. "Given that we usually stumble over the term to use when we have to introduce each other, I'm thinking maybe we should come up with something." She laughed at his grin.

"I could think of a few things, love," he said, his fingertips just under the hem of her shirt at her lower back. "What did you have in mind?"

"There is the traditional boyfriend and girlfriend titles," she said, biting back a laugh as he grimaced. Someone behind her bumped into her and she lost her balance, but he kept her upright, arms tightening around her. She had one hand placed on his chest and the other over his shoulder where her hand was at the nape of his neck. A few gentle strokes and he was following her movement like a cat being scratched behind the ears.

"Sophomoric monikers." He sighed as though trying to contemplate a better one. "Partners?"

"We're not a law firm," she argued. "Companions?" Her braid was no longer in place, leaving her hair in waves down her back. She could feel his fingers searching out more of the skin between her top and her pants, occasionally a palm rounding over her curves. She didn't stop him, but she did give him a few warning glances that they both sort of laughed off.

"I'm not your dog or your elderly aunt, love," he said, waggling his eyebrows. "Lovers?"

"That's not how I want to introduce you," Emma said, wrinkling her nose. "So friends?"

"As much as I admire your relationship with Ruby and Mary Margaret, I think that I might appreciate a different sort for us." He leaned his forehead against hers. "So whatever title you choose to give me, I'll accept. How is that?"

"Good save," she giggled. "You're a lucky man, it might even get you an invitation home with me?"

He kissed her lightly, not wanting to attract too much attention or an audience. "I think I quite fancy this bar. It brings me good luck with you."

 ** _Thoughts?_**


	15. Chapter 15

**_A/N: So the drama will heat up in the next chapter, including some stuff with Henry, Anna, and Kristof. That's not to say that this chapter is boring, but it ties Killian into the drama a bit more than just watching Emma suffer and there is a bit of smut in there too. Hope you enjoy!_**

Killian pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and groaned with the headache that pounded and grew behind the blue orbs. He had not drank that much the night before, preferring to remain in control of his faculties when it came to Emma, but still he felt like he had the hangover from hell. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, he told himself as he drank another loud slurp from the cup of coffee that was now lukewarm on his desk.

Emma had been quite amorous that night, the two of them enjoying themselves at the bar and even more in jeep and later in her apartment. With his eyes closed he could still feel her long legs hitched up onto his hips and her ankles crossed behind him as they didn't even make it past her living room before he was buried inside her. He had sworn he'd buy her whatever drink she could desire if only she would scream his name that way as she quivered around him in her completion. He had thought he might combust on the spot, but she had coaxed his own release from him and led him to her bed soon after his legs became strong enough to support him again.

He had to stop thinking about such things at work, as he was pretty sure Eric was able to read his mind. Earlier during a conference call, the sales manager had looked knowingly at him as he had accidentally called the woman named Emily by Emma's name instead.

It was assumed that the mistake with the woman's name was the reason that Eric had marched into Killian's office just before noon and closed the door with a loud thud that left those in cubicles wondering. Dressed in one of the sweaters that he usually wore for sailing trips with potential clients, Eric ran a hand through his thick hair and sighed as he sat across from arguably his best salesman.

"The deal with the city about the rescue boats," he said, not bothering to acknowledge that Killian was popping aspirin like candy and chasing it down with first coffee and then a bottle of water. "Please tell me that the city approved that."

"Contract is signed and the boats are being custom outfitted now," Killian said, glad for once to be ahead of his boss's whims. "I was going to take a look at the progress tomorrow, but I suppose I could…"

"I didn't ask about the contract," Eric said, enunciating carefully. "I simply asked if the city approved it. You know…city council…voting…large purchases requiring multiple bids." Killian's office was warm with the sun coming in and a small space heater that he had commandeered from the last occupant of the office. Eric tugged a bit at the thickly knit collar.

Killian paled a bit as he dug through is bottom drawer for the file folder. "David and Regina signed off on them," he said. "I placed the order as soon as they…"

"The council didn't vote, did they?"

"Well, I wasn't aware that was necessary," Killian said, pulling at the neck of his own shirt. He had lost the jacket earlier, as well as the tie, but he still wore the dark vest and matching pants. "I mean Regina is the mayor. Can't she approve it?"

"With the approval of the council. She can't act alone and neither can David." Eric sighed roughly, his eyes narrow and accusatory as he placed the creased newspaper on the desk. "I guess you haven't read today's edition of the Daily Mirror. Sidney Glass has been looking into the spending of the department what with the missing money and all. And guess what he found?" Eric rolled his eyes as Killian leaned forward and scanned the text. Impatient, he pointed to the passage he wanted him to see. "Interesting coincidence. Money goes missing. A contract for almost that same dollar amount is drawn up by you only days after you started sleeping with one of the deputies. The deputy who is under investigation because she has her own record."

"Bloody hell, Eric. You can't honestly think that I would steal or accept stolen money." Killian lifted the news article closer to his eyes and hurriedly ran over it in his mind. He was desperate to find a hole in the story, but for once Sidney seemed quite thorough. Despite the accusation being false, all the evidence was there.

"Perception is a bigger deal than reality sometimes, Killian," the man said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I understand that you care for this woman. You were broken up over the accusations against her. But you need to watch yourself. People aren't going to see this as just an innocent coincidence. There's going to be talk. You look like you profited from bedding her and she willingly participated in scamming the city out of money."

"But purchasing the equipment was David's idea," Killian explained, his flustered voice sounding higher pitched than his normal one. "Emma was pushing for a different purchase all together. She was quite cross with the sheriff for not taking her suggestion."

Eric sighed again. "Or so she'd want people to believe. Killian, look. I know you care for her, but really think about this. How well do you know her? It's quite concerning that she is working in that position after having been in jail. She's obviously not above having strings pulled for her. Just be careful."

Killian's hands swatted down onto the desk. "What do you suggest I do? I do know Emma. I am not going to abandon her because some sodding idiot with a wild imagination and a computer decided that she is somehow embezzling money and then using her influence to get me a commission. So unless you have…"

"I do have another plan," Eric interrupted again. He reached into his pocket, brandishing a business card. "You're going to cooperate in the investigation. Your interview is this afternoon. And then you're going to come back here and we're going to work out a plan as what management wants to do about this. We can't ignore the fact of how much this is going to cost."

"You must think I'm daft," Killian protested, not taking the card that was being waved before him. "I'm not going to go be interviewed and assessed by the very man who…"

"Appointment's at 2," Eric said, ignoring the blustering protests. "I'd suggest you go take a shower at lunch. You look like hell."

***AAA***

Emma was not a business suit kind of woman. She could wear a dress. She could wear her jeans. But the tailored blazers and straight-line skirts or pleated pants did not seem to hang right on her, in her own opinion. So when Elsa's public relations manager, Ashley, showed up with a dozen variations of the suits, Emma knew that she was about to be turned into corporate Barbie.

"I look like a blonde version of Regina," Emma said when David complimented her on the steely gray pants suit with the creamy white shell. Her makeup was subtle and her long hair was twisted into a low bun at the nape of her neck. "This woman can't be serious."

"I was about to ask you to sell me a used car," David said, pouring the last of the coffee into his favorite mug and frowning at the now empty pot. "Seriously though, you look great. I'm sure this press conference is going to go well."

"I'm just thankful that you're doing more of the talking than I am," Emma said, her hand fluttering around the oversized beads that the woman had paired with the outfit. "Aren't we supposed to be in charge of these things? How did we lose control?"

"That," David said with a smirk, "is something I ask myself every day. But thankfully she got it pushed back a little to appease those reporters."

The blonde made a face, sticking out her tongue and pretending to gag herself with her finger. "I swear if Sidney asks me one question, I'm going to punch him."

"If you punched everyone you threaten, you'd be a guest of the city and not an employee," David counselled. "And I guess that means you've seen today's article."

Emma scoffed, folding her arms across her chest and then thinking better of it. She smoothed out the wrinkles in the fabric. "You mean the one where he accuses me of not only stealing money but somehow sleeping with Killian so he could make a sale to you and allow me to get my hands on more money? That article?"

"That would be the one," David said with a scowl. "Pretty damning stuff."

"I'll say," Emma sarcastically replied. "I've been accused of sleeping with two different men so that I could profit financially. I can't say either portrayal is flattering though at least Sidney finally figured out who I do share a bed with." She didn't add that it is also helpful that Killian actually called her immediately after reading it. She'd been in the midst of a fitting for her new outfit and missed the call, but it was there.

"Thank God for small favors," David said. "I guess you know about Neal then too? And Killian?"

"Neal got run over by a bus or a truck and Killian is providing the boat for a burial at sea?" She laughed heartily at her own joke until she realized that David wasn't laughing. "What?"

"He's requested an interview with Killian about the contracts. I guess I'll be interviewed again too."

Emma wondered if her bagel that morning was such a good idea as her stomach lurched uncomfortably. She clutched at her abdomen and mentally counted the number of steps it would take her to get to the restroom. "Can't Neal just leave?" she asked nobody in particular. "Killian didn't approve those contracts. That was you and Regina. I saw them."

"And now Sidney has two members of the city council claiming that they weren't aware of the deal. It's not good, Emma."

***AAA***

Killian tried to imagine Emma with Neal, but he wasn't sure he wanted to that for the sake of his own sanity. He'd heard her limited comments about him and Ruby's more disparaging ones, even having laughed at a few of the funnier ones. However, those comments all made him seem a different species and less human. So to see a man sitting before him in a suit with hair that is a bit too long is surprising in a way.

"You must be Killian," Neal said, looking down at his notepad like Emma is known to do. "Neal. Nice to meet you."

Neal managed to shuffle and the reorganize some papers on the borrowed desk before he looked out to where Killian was sitting. There was something about the situation that reminded Killian of being in trouble at school, waiting for the teacher to admit which infraction she knew about and hoping you wouldn't have to guess and admit to some unknown crime.

"You sell boats or something, right?"

Despite the amused smile, Killian can tell it is not outside the man's knowledge as to Killian's role with the company. "Aye, boats, ships, equipment for any of the maritime trades or even some past times," he responded as though reading the back of a brochure about the company. "But I'm suspecting that is why I'm here and that you already know that."

The smile on Neal's lips grows. "How much of a commission do you get on selling these items?" Again, it is a question that Killian is sure that Neal had researched. The standard is 5%, but Killian's role with the company provides him with 7% over his salary. When Killian explains that to him, Neal punched the numbers into the old adding machine on David's desk. When he finished, he held up the white tape as though he couldn't be bothered to read the green numbers on the screen. "Quite a little bonus for your sale to the city." He tore off the white paper and held it out to Killian who didn't take it.

"I'm aware of the amount, which is not that unusual in these circumstances," Killian said. "The negotiations and deal took most of my time that would have been dedicated to other sales. I was compensated for that."

"This time," Neal said, not missing a beat, "it would include things like wining and dining clients. Perhaps taking them on sailing trips? Maybe a gift or two."

"Aye, it can," Killian said. "However, government rules are a bit tougher on wooing a potential customer."

Neal wrote something onto the pad of paper. "And I understand that most of that time you spent wooing the city was spent with one of the city's deputies." He made air quotes around the word wooing and didn't both to look back at his notes when he smiled and said her name. "Emma Swan?"

Killian wasn't a big fan of how the man said her name. There was something too familiar about it, too degrading. He wished he could unhear it. "Emma and I met just before the sale went through," Killian said. "Our relationship is of a personal nature, but it is in no way related to the rescue boats and equipment that I sold to the department. She…"

"She arranged a dinner meeting between you and the sheriff," Neal supplied, leaning backwards into the chair. It rocked a bit under the pressure. "One that she attended. So she was there for the negotiations."

"It wasn't like that," Killian said. "We had dinner with her friends. The deal was mentioned and then dropped when she became upset that the money wasn't being used for another cause."

"Em always was a stubborn girl."

"Determined is more accurate," Killian supplied, feeling sour toward the man. He had no love loss for anyone who had caused Emma any bit of pain. But most of all, he hated the smugness of the man whose now out of date knowledge of Emma was superficial at best. Maybe it was simply pride and jealousy, but Killian despised the idea that this man had ever had his hands on Emma, left her with memories and experiences that had hurt her to the point that she shut down. Now he sat there with his expectation being much like a man who left his date to go to the restroom and returned. Could he honestly think that Emma had not changed in all that time?

***AAA***

"How the hell do you do those things?" Emma asked, ripping off the jacket and throwing it onto a table. "All those eyes and questions. Smug bastards wanting to know things not at all directed to the purpose of that press conference." She shuddered.

David smiled consolingly, pushing a chair over for Elsa who appeared shell-shocked after being peppered with questions about her sister's relationships, the possibility that it was a publicity stunt, and the idea that it had been Elsa who had driven her away. "The media isn't always the enemy," he said to both ladies. "They can help us get the word out about Anna and Kris to places we can't reach with fliers and word of mouth."

"If it helps me find my sister then it is worth it," Elsa declared. "I'd answer hundreds of questions if she was back here with me." She was wearing a beautifully embroidered blazer, running her fingers over the intricate design.

"I'm sorry," Emma said. "I just wish they hadn't brought up the stuff going on here at the station. That was unfair to you."

They were still debating the press conference, talking about questions and reassuring each other of answers when Neal emerged from the glass office with Killian. The two men stopped and looked to Emma who snapped her head in their direction.

"Didn't the press conference go well, Em?" Neal asked, his smile and stature relaxed in comparison to Killian who looked worried. "I bet you were great." He took a step toward her, ignoring David who stepped between them.

Emma ignored his sort of compliment and focused her attention on Killian. He was looking down rather than meeting her gaze, but she approached him anyway, her hand petting at his sleeve. "Are you two done with whatever you wanted?" she asked Neal, never looking at him. "Because I could use some air. How about you, Killian?"

Killian offered a half smile as she pulled him from the room with a word to David that she'd be back shortly and a comment to Elsa that she would be in touch if anything came up. It wasn't until they were both outside that she spoke to Killian, her hand still gripping his jacket and her own arms bare and cold in the wind.

"So that went…" she tried to catch his gaze, but he looked as timid and weak as Elsa at that moment. "Are you okay? Did Neal say or do something? If he…"

"I can see why your friends hold him in such high regard, Swan," he said sardonically. "I'm afraid he has some notion that our relationship is about me trying to…" He scratched behind his ear. "I'm not trying to use you, Swan. Commission or not, I would never want to hurt you over a sale."

"I know that," Emma said. "It's just the way Neal thinks." She pulled herself closer to him, hiding her arms under his coat. When he offered to let her wear it, she shook her head. "I kind of like this method better."

"As do I," he said. "I'm sorry that my…"

She wrinkled her brow in contemplation. "You're not going to tell me that you are sorry you dragged me into this when it's my fault, are you? Because I don't think you did anything wrong. I'm the one with the past. I'm the one…"

"You're not the only one, Emma," he said, "but here and now is not the appropriate place for that discussion."

"That worries me," she told him. "Are you sure you're okay? You know you can tell me things. I've had a few breakdowns in front of you, so you're due one." She grinned, but his expression did not match hers. "I want to be there for you too."

He glanced toward the sidewalk on the other side of the street. There was a woman with a toddler heading toward one of the quaint stores that lined that area. The toddler was so bundled that he or she appeared to be ball shaped rather than an actual child, his or her arms not even able to lie flat. He smirked at the sight of the mom chasing down the child who could not even see past a thick scarf and the dad who was chasing after them both with a diaper bag over one shoulder and two canvas shopping bags over the other arm. It was such a domestic scene, happy couple, family, and life going on. He wondered briefly if he would ever have such a thing.

"You are here for me," he said, rubbing his hands over the exposed parts of her arms. "But I think you might freeze if we stay out here any longer."

"You're stalling," she accused as she walked back to the station begrudgingly. "I'm going to learn your secrets, Killian Jones, even if I have to torture it out of you."

He hugged her into his side as they made their way back against the wind. "I don't doubt that, Emma. I don't doubt that at all."

***AAA***

"Who told you that the council had approved it?" Emma asked Killian as they sat in his living room. Her pants suit was long gone and replaced by a pair of jeans and a thick cable sweater. Her feet, covered in thick socks that had stars on them, were folded with her legs under her as she sat on his sofa. His arm was resting on the back of it, half holding her as she sipped on a glass of wine that he had insisted on sharing with her.

"I supposed I assumed that David and the mayor would have handled such a detail," he said. "I spoke to David about it earlier. He had assumed I was working with Regina on that…It doesn't matter. I dropped the ball. The purchase was not approved. I went ahead with the order and now…"

"Now the company is on the hook for that money?" Emma surmised from his tense expression, especially the way his jaw was set so tightly and his eyes glinted dark. "That's what has you so worried?"

"I never should have placed the request until all the i's were dotted and the t's crossed, darling. It was a costly mistake that could very well cost me my job." He frowned. "Eric's talking to the brass now, but it is not looking good."

"Killian," Emma said, her hand resting near the spot where his neck and shoulder met. "It wasn't up to you. Regina and David should have taken care of the approvals. It's part of their jobs to do such things."

"I can't blame them," he said with a resigned sigh. "It is circular logic at best and I didn't do my part. I jumped the gun."

Emma pulled in a long sip of the wine and breathed in the heady scent. "But you're going to fight it, right? I mean you can't just let the company put all the blame on you."

He reached for her wine glass, their fingers grazing as he pulled it out of her hand and placed it on the table beside him. His other hand reached out to place a finger over her lips as she went to protest the stealing of her wine. She kissed the pad of his finger and let her eyes follow the drink. "Can't have you spilling," he said, his voice low as he pulled her toward him. The move wasn't fierce or passionate, but instead it was comforting and tender. Her head against his shoulder and his tilted toward hers, he sighed. "I appreciate the concern, Emma, but I can't think about this until I have to do so. There are just too many moving parts. Either my work will stand behind me or it won't. Either Neal will believe me or he won't. I don't even know what to wish for with the outcome."

"I would say we should wish for things to go back to normal, but I'm not sure I know what that is," she admitted. Her hand stroked down his chest, resting for a bit over his heart where he covered her hand with his own. She stretched against him, almost purring as her body relaxed against his. Her eyes shut and her fingers tapped along with the staccato beat of his heart. "You know, I might could be convinced to hide out with you and pretend like the rest of the world doesn't exist. No Neal, no job worries. Just me and you and maybe Netflix or some DVDs?"

"I think maybe I'll just stay in this weekend," he commented idly. "You have to work, do you not?"

"Robin offered to work Saturday if I took a shift for him next week so he can go to Roland's school thing," she explained. Turning her head, she looked at his profile. "I just thought we could hide out together, but if you don't want that…" She let her eyes drop, that insecurity over not being enough or wanted coming to light again.

"I'm not sure how good of company I'll be, love," he muttered. "I am on the verge of a pity party over the possibility of losing my job."

She knew she probably didn't have the right words to say or the right sentiment to express, but she knew that he would try if the shoe was on the other foot. "Parties can be more fun with two people," she declared. "So I am inviting myself."

"You're a pushy little minx," he laughed. "I suppose you have a point, but you will have to be awfully forgiving. I won't be in the best of moods."

"I'm tough. I can handle that."

***AAA***

Emma was right. She could handle Killian's mood that weekend, which went from bad to worse when another article speculated on his version of the truth and detailed his own previous troubles at a former job. His reputation in shambles, he had left and sought out the job he currently held.

"I should have told you about that," he said, slamming the paper down that Saturday morning with a loud slap. "Bloody well put it behind me only to have dug up again." His fists clenched in anger and his spine was rigid. Emma had never quite seen him so angry and distressed.

"I wish you would have, but I guess we both kept things a secret." She said the words slowly, disbelieving herself that she was saying them. "It's the past, right? Nothing we can change now." She wished she could believe that, wished that she could truly think that of her situation.

"Aye," he said, glancing back at the paper in disgust. "I don't understand a bit of this. Why are they digging up this information? What good does it do anyone?"

Emma didn't know, having resigned herself to the idea that her own past would eventually catch up to her. But Killian had done nothing wrong to anyone. It made no sense.

The morning had started well and she had been standing in his kitchen, watching him flip pancakes and laughing as he attempted to imitate Julia Child. When his phone had buzzed with warning that someone was calling, she had told him that hiding out meant no contact. But he had reached around her to grab the black phone, tickling her ribs as the two of them laughed over his maneuver. It was like a drape had been pulled over their casual Saturday breakfast, the grip he had around her waist loosened and the carefree smile on his lips turned down and tight.

She tenderly brushed her hand over the side of his face when he stopped shaking. "Hey," she said warmly. "Our plans this weekend were to shut the world out. We can't let this crap get to us if we do that."

He had nodded and tried to recapture the levity of before. It was not easy, but they managed it as the morning wore on in a flurry of sticky and syrupy kisses, cooking shows on the Food Network, and a trip back to the bedroom that Emma declared a successful diversion to getting dressed. However, she noticed the faraway look in his eyes and the way he seemed to be holding back.

"What do you suggest we watch?" he asked, stooping in front of his collection of DVD's after they had found nothing to agree on within the first 20 minutes of searching Netflix. He had never really thought about the allure of a woman in his shirt, but he was reconsidering that position with the sight of Emma on his sofa in one of his button down shirts, her long legs curled under her so that the shirt rode up her thigh in the most tantalizing of ways.

"We don't have to watch anything," she suggested.

His cloudy eyes seemed to grow darker and then lighten. "Perhaps we should," he said.

She recognized the signs of someone retreating into himself. She had performed the same act a hundred times at least. It always started with saying she was fine or she wouldn't think about something now. It was followed by comments about how it didn't matter anyway and there was no point in discussing it further.

They settled on a marathon of the Back to the Future trilogy, only breaking to make popcorn. That in itself turned into one of their first real arguments. Killian was a traditionalist who preferred butter and salt in comparison to Emma's parmesan and garlic flavored preference.

"Popcorn is practically the world's most perfect food," he told her when she called his selection boring. "There is no need to doctor it up unnecessarily."

"There is nothing wrong with adding a little spice to your life," she protested back, swinging her long bare legs over his jean clad lap in what he could only assume was a diversionary tactic. "And I love the taste." She punctuated that statement with her tongue flicking out to savor the taste on her bottom lip.

Determined to hold his ground, he shook his head and faced the television again. "We will have to agree to disagree," he told her, blatantly ignoring the way her legs rubbed across the tightness of his pants. "You can't convince me otherwise."

"You are pretty set in your way," she said, leaning back against an oversized pillow and popping a kernel into her mouth.

"I think we share that in common," he said with his own smile, tipping back the bottle of beer he had chosen to wash down the saltiness. "But I stand by my statement."

A few minutes of the movie passed, the two of them watching Marty attempt to reunite his parents in a time before he was even born. The only sound other than the movie was chewing until Emma began to fidget on the couch, drawing his attention when her legs again brushed against his hardening length. He turned an eye toward her curiously to find her the picture of innocence and sweetness.

"I'm cold," she said in a small voice. "I was going to put my feet under the pillow."

He reached over to grab the cashmere throw and draped it over her legs. Raising an eyebrow, he silently asked if that was acceptable. She nodded, and reached for more of the popcorn as he did the same with his own bowl.

"Killian?" she asked a few minutes later. "Do you have another beer in the refrigerator?" She was aware that he did, having gotten out the two earlier.

He smirked at her tactic and lifted her legs off of him to go retrieve it for her. When he returned she was just coming back to the room too, carrying a pair of his socks and telling him that she hoped he didn't mind her borrowing them. She wiggled and contorted on the couch as she put them on. Again, it wasn't an act that should have been sensual, but it was killing him to watch. His only verbal response was to say her name warningly.

"Would you mind passing me the good popcorn," she said when she settled back onto the couch. "By that I mean mine."

He leaned forward, grabbing the bowl and handing it to her. His own hand stayed on it a bit longer than necessary. But she showed no signs that she wanted anything other than the salty snack and the beer that he had opened for her. She hummed contentedly as he restarted the movie.

They sat there side by side for another few minutes as Marty performed on stage at the dance. Killian was tapping his foot along with the music when she let out a little gasp. As he turned to discover the source of her distress, he found her pulling the black shirt of his away from her skin and staring down and her now exposed breasts.

"I dropped some," she said with a sheepish giggle. He looked amused. "Don't laugh at me." She wiggled and reached her hand between the fabric and her skin.

"Need a hand, love?" he asked, doing his best to seem disinterested and failing. She nodded, letting his hands pull open the shirt and run down the pebbled skin. One at a time, he found the three kernels and plucked them from her, popping them into his mouth as he went.

"I think that's it," she told him.

He took a long pause, hovering over her as she watched him with interest. The newly risen moonlight from the windows shone through and reflected on his gorgeous face. She knew he was about to say something, and important look on his face was evidence enough. And in true Emma form, she lifted up to kiss him, adding to her belief that if his lips were busy that they wouldn't say anything they couldn't take back. She was afraid he would back off and insist on a conversation, but his tongue darted into her mouth and hungrily lapped at its warm curves.

A fire ignited between them, heating up every inch of her skin with desire. Emma ran her hands up his chest and began to pull at his shirt. His hands slid behind her and gripped on to her firm rear as her lips moved to his earlobe, sucking on it gently. She made a slow trail with her tongue down to the flesh of his neck and nibbled at it lightly, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne that lingered on his skin.

Killian's hands traveled up her back and then moved to her chest to massage her breasts now that there was no barrier between them. She moved her lips from his neck, to kiss the top of his bare chest. She slowly unbuttoned each button, leaving a kiss on his bare skin as she moved down to his abdomen. She untucked the shirt from his pants, and Killian pulled it all the way off for her.

She took a moment to catch her breath at the sight of his exposed chest, her fingers brushing through the dark hair there. His muscles rippled in all the right places, and he was as she always thought in such moments absolutely perfect. She ran the tip of her tongue over each perfect muscle, causing Killian to groan softly. Her fingers slid over his bare skin as she made her way back up to face him. She nibbled on his lower lip and Killian reached his hands pull his shirt off her shoulders.

Emma kissed him passionately, sucking on his tongue as found his way to more skin. His fingertips slid over the skin of her back, causing a shiver of pleasure to run through her. Emma slid her arms out of the sleeves and the shirt dropped into a puddle on the floor. His hands massaged her breasts tenderly, then he pinched and rolled each nipple between his fingers, causing her to moan loudly. He dove in between her bare breasts and ran his tongue between them, and then over to one nipple, clamping on to it forcefully. He sucked at her nipple roughly as Emma's hands found the buckle to his belt. She quickly undid it and unzipped his pants with ease. Her hand nimbly found its way underneath his boxers and began stroking his hard length.

Killian switched his mouth to her other nipple as Emma steadily stroked his throbbing erection. His mouth finally left her breasts and Emma took that opportunity to pull his pants off his hips, leaving his cock free from its restraints. She rolled herself off the couch and kneeled to the floor, running her tongue from the base up to the tip of it slowly. Killian gripped on to the edges of the couch, as she swirled her tongue around his balls leisurely.

She put the tip of his cock in between her lips and sucked at it until a loud groan escaped Killian's throat. She slid her lips farther down the shaft, slowly bringing more of him inside the warm tunnel of her mouth. She bobbed her head up and down on his cock, driving Killian insane with pleasure. She continued until she knew he was riding too close to the edge of his climax, so she slid her mouth away in one smooth motion.

Killian had to take a moment to slow his breathing and return to coherent thought. He slid off the edge of couch, pulling them both to standing and wrapping his arms around her as he reclaimed her mouth with his own. He held on to her and brought her backwards to the bedroom across the way. He lifted her up until she sat on the edge of his bed.

Killian nibbled at her earlobe, and then made a trail down her neck. His hand rode up her inner thigh, and his finger ran over her slit, which was already soaked with her own juices. He slid his fingers into her easily and Emma moaned loudly, as his lips moved down back to her breasts. He made circles with his tongue around her nipples as his fingers were thrusting into her.

His tongue made a pathway in between her breasts and over her flat stomach. He easily found her clit with his tongue and began lapping at it hungrily. Emma screamed with pleasure and dug her fingers into his shoulder as he plunged deeper into her with his fingers. He slid his fingers out and replaced it with his tongue, sucking at her folds of skin as he dove in and out of her with his tongue.

Emma climbed higher towards her peak, and then suddenly he moved away from her, leaving her to groan in frustration.

"Oh God... That was so mean."

Killian grinned at her and nodded in agreement. He readjusted her to the center of the bed, her pouting lips taunting him as she whined. He hovered above her with a smile.

His lips found hers and he kissed her deeply as he poised himself at her waiting entrance. Emma ran her hands over his bare back, her body aching for him to continue. He broke off their kiss and held on to her tightly, preparing to enter her. He slid into her easily and Emma cried out with pleasure as he filled her up, causing every nerve in her body to tingle.

Killian began thrusting in to her slowly at first, each one of his smooth thrusts punctuated with a moan from Emma's lips. Emma wrapped her legs around him tightly, pulling him in even further and Killian quickened his pace. It didn't take long for her to climb the mountain again. Emma raked her fingernails over his strong back and felt her climax cover her from head to toe with fire. She trembled with pleasure underneath him, her toes curling up as Killian continued pounding in to her.

The mattress underneath them shook with each of his thrusts, and Emma was still lost in the haze of her orgasm, when Killian began furiously pumping his cock into her. Killian buried himself deep inside her, and came with a loud groan. He continued moving inside her until he was too weak to carry on.

He laid his head on her chest as he tried to catch his breath, and Emma ran her fingers through his dark hair with a sigh of pure contentment. They lay there together, blissfully enjoying the feel of each other for quite a while, both of them too lost in the moment to do anything else.


	16. Chapter 16

Emma's giggles echoed off the walls of the bedroom as his fingers dug into her ribcage and demanded that she acknowledge he was right about the best actor to play James Bond. She was gasping between the giggles, eyes clenched shut and head thrown back as he assaulted her playfully.

"Admit it!" he bellowed, his face inches from hers. "Come now, love."

"Never," she giggled through hiccoughs. There was no fear or panic in her eyes, just sheer joy as she threw herself into the laughter and fun.

"I quite like you like this," he said, reaffirming his attack on her. Their Sunday morning attire was casual and her braless chest bounced as she writhed from his attention. His eyes were locked on her breasts, focused on the vibrations.

"Killian," she admonished as his playfulness grew to include his mouth on her. "Stop it! You'll leave a mark." She was used to it by now, the attention that he gave her at the bites and other symbols that she knew people had seen on her skin. "Killian."

His right hand climbed upward, a gentle stroke to her breast in its wake as he grasped both her wrists with his hand and held them firmly over her head. His smirk shone as she struggled against him with the same mischievous look mirrored back at him. "Not until you admit it."

"I'm tougher than I look," she gasped. Demonstrating her statement, she lifted her legs to circle round him. The leverage she achieved gave her the advantage and she flipped them so that she was now on top and straddling him. His surprised expression was lost to the light by the curtain of hair that fell as she lowered herself over him. "See?"

"My beautiful and strong lass." Letting go of her wrists and stilling his tickling, his head raised off the bed to meet her lips. He pulled away before she could even think of deepening the kiss and getting the advantage again. Using his hands on her hips, he flipped them once again and chortled at the surprised grunt that escaped her. His fingers were grazing that smooth skin at her midsection when the pounding at the door echoed through the space. "Bloody hell," he muttered, turning his face from her to the doorway that led to the living room. "You didn't invite anyone over did you?"

"No," she squeaked. "Maybe ignore it and they'll go away?" Her eyes flashed at him as her breath came in spurts. "If they need you, they could text or call."

He rocked backwards, looking down at her hands resting on his thighs. "I have to go see, love," he said. "Could be important."

Her bottom lip protruded and she huffed with annoyance. "Get rid of them," she pouted. "It's early."

He grinned at her as he awkwardly tried to roll away and walk toward the living room. His foot was asleep and his steps clumsy as he cursed under his breath. His hands were gripping the sleep pants he was wearing, pulling them back over his hips and making Emma laugh at his jerky movements.

She was still on the bed when made it to the door, her body stretching her legs against the footboard and her hands hitting the headboard. That was when she heard the familiar voices, realizing that it was Mary Margaret and David there at the door. She leapt to her feet, scrambling for the clothes that she had left over his chair and he had moved to his closet without much fanfare.

Emerging from the bedroom, she saw Killian and David already in conversation. Mary Margaret wasn't participating as much as sneaking looks around the space to discern what she could from his décor, but smiled widely as Emma emerged from the bedroom. Pushing back her hair and hoping she looked at least somewhat presentable, Emma gave her friend a hug and waited to see if David would explain their presence.

"We stopped by your place and you weren't there," Mary Margaret explained, "so we just assumed…"

Emma nodded, again wondering why her friends had not bothered with a phone. "We just thought we'd stay in this weekend." Killian snuck his arm around her waist, giving her a quick squeeze.

The four made a little small talk and eventually seated themselves in the living room. David and Killian avoided the topic of the deal and the investigation, though the topic hung in the air like the scent of smoke after a fire. Emma offered them both some coffee, which brought the couple's eyebrows up at her familiarity with the locale and comfortableness with Killian. They were both smirking as Emma poured the coffee and did not even ask how he took his.

"I'd offer you a muffin or pastry, but someone didn't think to buy flour on his latest trip to the store," she explained, filling the tray with the mugs, creamer and sugar. "I could make some toast." Turning her head, she glanced over at Killian who was standing over the stove where he was boiling water. "Did you get more bread or that awful nine grain stuff that you like?"

"If you dislike my selections so much, darling, you should shop yourself," he said, resting one hand on his hip. "I seem to recall that your refrigerator is hardly bursting with options."

Like the adult she was, Emma stuck her tongue out at him and sauntered back into the living room. "What?" she asked, exasperation evident as she set the matching mugs in front of them. "Is it really so funny that I made coffee?"

There was a rosiness to Mary Margaret's cheeks as David pointed with his elbow at Killian doctoring up a bit of hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon for Emma. "We just feel like we've missed the wedding."

"Wedding?" Emma asked, practically choking on the word.

"David just wasn't expecting quite so domestic of a scene," Mary Margaret said. "I think it threw him." She reached for the bright red mug, the fingers of her left hand curling around the warmth of the ceramic vessel. Emma gasped as she saw her friend's hand.

"Speaking of weddings," she said, pointing to the woman's hand. "Care to explain why there is a diamond on that finger and you haven't bothered to tell me." Emma's posture was rigid, though there was not that much surprise in the news. She knew that David had been planning his proposal, just as Mary Margaret had been expecting it. However, she was still shocked to see the shining ring on a very obvious finger.

"He proposed Friday," Mary Margaret said, her cheeks a full red instead of just pink. "We were waiting to tell everyone, but I wanted you to know. That's why we're here."

Emma hugged her friend tightly, alternating between congratulating them and telling them it was about time. She dutifully admired the ring, which she recognized from David's desk drawer. After the hugging, she asked all the right questions. When would the wedding take place? Had they told his father yet? Was she thinking a big wedding or a small one?

"Congratulations, mate," Killian said as he passed Emma the hot chocolate. "You're a lucky man."

"That I am," David said proudly, pulling his fiancé into his side. "I can't wait to marry this woman."

Mary Margaret smiled happily as she reached a hand out to Emma. "I know it is early yet and we don't have everything planned, but I want you to be in the wedding. You and Ruby both." She squeezed her friend's hand with a cheerful hum.

"Of course," Emma said. "The three of us have always said that would be the way it is. I do insist on dress approval though. I don't trust Ruby not to have us all looking like strippers on a break."

David raised his eyebrows, kissing his fiancé on the top of her head. "That would make for an interesting ceremony." He made musical sounds like those from some porno and made all of them laugh.

Killian and David stepped aside as Emma is regaled with Mary Margaret's plans for a wedding that she had been planning for some time. To her credit, Emma did not remind the teacher that she was privy to her Pinterest pages and scrapbooks that detailed everything, including possible flower girls depending on the date of the wedding.

"There's no decision yet?" Killian asked, sipping his coffee and watching the two women over the rim of the cup. David shook his head no. "Bloody hell. How long does it take?"

David lowered his empty mug to the table, curling his fingers over the edge of the dining table as he leaned backwards against it. "Neal's supposedly done with the interviews. So that means I can get my office back, but no word on the audit. By the way, I did speak to Neal after your interview with him. I explained twice that Regina is the one who told me that we had the green light on the boat order. You and I had no reason to believe otherwise."

Killian exhaled noisily, the mug still at chest level. "Thank you," he said, "though I doubt it will do much good. My company is still on the line and blaming me for the loss. I never imagined this would be the outcome when I heard you were interested."

"I apologize for that," David answered. "Obviously we were both played on the issue. I'm anxious to find out who did that playing though."

"Aye, it would be beneficial to know who to punch in the face," Killian answered testily. "I can't say that this wait and see is all that easy on me. I can't imagine it much better on you with the election on the line."

David agreed that it was frustrating, as was his father's strategic planning that seemed to ignore the personal issues and focus on the object of winning the election. Though David had not followed his father's advice, the mere association with the man's plans were driving him to worry that people would judge him as his father's son.

"We aren't responsible for our parents' short comings," Killian said when David mentioned that his father had referred to Emma as excess baggage. "All we can do sometimes is overcome the DNA and hope that we live better than they have."

David turned his body from the two women who didn't appear to be paying attention anyway. In a low voice, he spoke of his concerns. "I think my father may be more involved than we are suspecting. It's not clear, but…" The sheriff hesitated, watching Killian's blank expression with interest as he realized that the man was trying not to give any sign of how uncomfortable this was making him. "I…I don't know anything yet, but I'm trying to figure it out."

"No doubt you will," Killian offered. "And if you don't mind, I'd love to have a whack at the man behind all this."

David shook his head, turning his body back to Emma and Mary Margaret. "You and Emma have more in common than I realized. You both like to threaten in the same way."

***AAA***

Emma hated Mondays with a passion, especially Mondays when she had to prepare documents for court. Traffic court week in Storybrooke meant half the population explaining to the judge about how they couldn't possibly have been speeding because of fill in the blank reason. She could recite most of these reasons from memory by now and had no interest in hearing them all again.

She glanced at her watch as she hurried into Granny's for a little caffeine and sugar rush that was sure to keep her at least conscious for the morning hours. The sun had barely made a dent in the dark sky and Emma was certain that there had to be at least a city ordinance against rising at such an hour. She had spent the weekend with Killian, doing nothing and everything within his four walls and pretending that the rest of the world didn't exist. And with the exception of the visit from Mary Margaret and David, they had been successful.

She was digging her hands into the pockets of her comfortable jacket when she heard him behind her. His voice clear and rolling as he ordered waffles and bacon, he was speaking to one of the waitresses in a tone she knew so well. He was part of the reason she had avoided the diner, knowing he was staying in one of the adjacent rooms.

"Em?" he asked, as if he might be confused by the number of blonde women in red leather jackets and badges that would be out at that hour. "You're up early."

"Work," she said, giving him one word instead of a full blown explanation. She was too busy silently praying that Granny was actually in a hurry that morning.

"Still have a hard time imagining you as a deputy," he mused, shaking his head toward the coffee mug in front of him like it had told him of her vocation. "Last time we saw each other you and I were lifting stuff from stores and sneaking into places to sleep or shower."

"Good times," she answered sarcastically. "Right up until I went to jail." She drummed her fingers on the counter to push the older woman along.

Neal lifted his eyebrows. "I guess I have that coming," he said. "But you know I didn't…"

She turned the rest of the way toward Granny, who was shuffling a bit with a complaint of arthritis to one of the other staff members. Emma considered asking the woman about installing a self service area for situations just like this. "There's not a need for explanations and excuses," Emma declared. "I'm more interested in the here and now. Why are you here, Neal?"

His eyes rolled upward as though he was trying to mull over the conversation and concept in his head. There was a hint of condensation in his voice as he explained that the company he worked for handled investigations into the mismanagement of money. Breaking off from that clinical description, he sighed. My boss said that I was requested on this one because I knew the parties involved and I was from this place.

She could see out of the corner of her eye that he seemed uncomfortable saying that he was from Storybrooke. She knew why. "Have you talked to your father?" she asked.

Neal laughed a bit. "No, I don't think he cares to talk to me. He hasn't been by or even called. I don't think Granny's changed the number in years. It's not that hard to get in touch with me." He laughed again with the irony that he is complaining about lack of contact with someone after disappearing from her life completely. Sipping at his coffee, he eyed her and the empty spot across from him in a silent invitation.

She refused it, wondering to herself where this fiancé of his was that morning. She was probably still asleep, Emma thought. Most sane people would be at that hour.

"Tamera wants to meet him," Neal said, reading her mind. "She thinks that he can't be that bad. I don't know how to explain it to her. How do you explain a man like my father?"

She considered telling him that the situation sucks and she wished him the best with it. She chickened out. "He's different now. He's in love. He's happy."

"Still a bastard though?" Neal asked, his lips curling upward with the question. He couldn't imagine Mr. Gold any other way.

"Always," Emma said, "but Belle makes him happy. They're married now."

"And you?" he asked, after telling her that his invitation to his father's wedding must have been lost in the mail. "The guy with the accent, right?"

She considered telling him that she was not involved with Robin, but it seemed a badly timed joke. Besides, she knew he had met and interviewed Killian. So she just nodded and said Killian's name softly.

"Happiness looks good on you," Neal offered in way of a compliment. "I mean it, Em. You're obviously doing well and getting along great. I'm glad. I never meant…"

She saw the little lines at the top of his nose and between his eyes. She recognized the expression and felt her stomach drop. "I should go," she said. "I guess I'll see you around." Her hands adjusted the scarf that she wore as she bit down on her bottom lip.

"Emma, I…"

She didn't hear the end of that sentence. She was already gone.

***AAA***

Emma's idea of preparing files for traffic court was interrupted not even an hour after she started. Her fingers were not even smudged with ink as she answered the incessantly ringing phone with a vague question about where everyone else was at that morning.

"She called," Elsa said, not bothering to identify herself or the she that was referred to in that two word sentence. "She said she's okay but that she can't come home yet."

Emma pinched out a few questions and tried to calm the woman's nerves at the development. "Are you certain it was Anna?" Emma asked. It was a routine question but one that always upset people.

"Of course," Elsa said hurriedly. "I know my sister's voice."

"Did you hear anything that could give a clue to where she was? A train? An announcement like at an airport? Anything?"

"I just heard her," Elsa said. "This is good news, right? It means she's alive and fine." The woman sounded desperate for Emma's confirmation.

Emma did not want to offer false hope. "I think it is," she said. "I'm going to see if I can trace back the call. Was it on your cell phone?"

Getting the necessary information, Emma went to work on the task of digging for that information. The cell phone carrier was less than helpful and it took more than a few phone calls to a state judge to get the records released. The number now in front of her, she called Elsa back and found that the woman was not familiar with the digits.

"I guess I could go about this the old way," she said, punching the numbers into her own phone. The shrill tone telling her that the number was disconnected was not a surprise. "Probably a cloned number."

"Should we be worried that you're talking to yourself?" Graham asked as he arrived for work. "It's a gin of stress or insanity or maybe both."

He'd been making himself scarce lately, taking patrols rather than office work and keeping to himself when he was there. She admitted only to herself that she missed their interaction, as he was one of the few people who didn't consider her somehow inferior to them. Robin, David, and John were great, but there was an ease about Graham that Emma would miss if he did leave.

"There wasn't another intelligent person to talk to," she chided before filling him in on the mysterious phone call from Anna.

"Definitely a cloned number," he agreed, "which probably indicates that she is not the one who chose to make the call. A woman needing time to think or get away is not going to go to that trouble."

"So we're back to thinking kidnapping," Emma said, a pen dangling from her long fingers. "And that leads to the question why do a phone call now?"

"Have you read today's paper?" Graham asked, the roll of his eyes automatic when he mentioned it. "There's a whole article saying that the lack of contact probably means she is dead."

"I don't read that paper anymore," Emma said defiantly. "I would rather read the instructions on my bottle of shampoo."

"It's the same thing," Graham grumbled. "Lather, rinse, repeat." He pulls the folded paper out of the bag across his shoulder and throws it on the desk. "Journalism at its finest."

"So the kidnapper could have felt desperate enough to give some proof. But that doesn't explain why there is no ransom demand yet."

Graham again shrugged his shoulders as if the subject bored him. "Could be he doesn't want money. Maybe if we figure out what he or she wants then we find the missing couple."

"I suppose that is one way to go about it." She had elected to eat some fruit that morning, avoiding the pastries. She pushed an apple toward him. "Take it. It's good for you."

He held the waxy red apple and stared at it before rubbing it against his rough jeans. "Have you put in for the cell records? More than just the calls. You need to…"

"I've contacted them about getting the cell tower pings," she said, taking a bite of the fruit salad that she had chosen. "It could take a day or two though. Elsa didn't hear any extraneous sounds, but she did pick up on something. Anna said something about water three times."

Fingers scratching at the stubble on the underside of his jaw, Graham looked perplexed. "Water?"

"She said that she would be home soon if the water didn't rise," Emma said, referring to her notes. "And she said that Elsa should just swim in the same direction as the other fishes and not make a big deal of her being gone. Then when Elsa asked if she was safe, Anna told her that she was fine and had taken to this like a duck to water." Her eyes lingered on the pad of paper for a moment more. "Natural assumption is that they are near the water? The creek? The marina?"

"I guess those are natural assumptions," he answered, biting off a bit of the apple. "But haven't the teams already scoured those areas?"

Emma agreed that the areas had been searched, but the water clue was too blatant to overlook. "Suggestions?"

He shook his head. "Your case, but I think you should keep an open mind on it. Sometimes things aren't like they appear."

***AAA***

Emma decided that she did sort of like having a boyfriend or whatever he wanted to call himself, as the prospect of seeing him during lunch or after work seemed so much more preferable to her previous schedule. She could certainly handle being alone. That wasn't a big deal to her, as she had found it preferable in many occasions. Being alone meant not being disappointed in someone else. It meant simplicity. It meant quiet. It meant independence.

However, there was something comforting about the texts and emails from Killian that greeted her. Hearing his voice on the phone as she curled up in bed or better yet the warmth of his body next to hers. She probably would not admit that to her friends, but she rather liked the sensation of his breath on her skin or the roughness of his stubble against her in the morning as he kissed her shoulder or neck until she stumbled awake.

So her heart leapt a bit as she saw him waiting beside her car. His hands were buried in his pockets and his scarf tied around his neck as the calendar seemed to leap from fall to winter. "You're smiling," she said, stepping into his embrace and breathing in the scent of leather from his jacket. "That must mean today was not as bad as you had thought."

"I was a might lucky," he said, arms tightening around her. "It was thankfully no more than the proverbial slap on the hand. I could tell you about it over dinner if you care to join me." His smile was bright against the black of his jacket. "Italian?"

"Sounds wonderful," she agreed. "Anything warm sounds good right now."

The two of them walked the three blocks to an out of the way Italian place, dripping candles and checkered table clothes as the norm. He spoke briefly to the host at the front counter, indicating where they would like to sit and guided her there himself with a hand at the small of her back.

"Dinner in an actual restaurant," Emma said, spreading the napkin over her lap as Killian took his seat across from her. "I don't know if I should be impressed or frightened."

He looked vaguely amused as he mimicked her motions with the napkin in his own lap. "Frightened? I'm not sure why you would go there."

She smiled vaguely, lifting the water glass to take a long sip. "In my experience, when people want to deliver bad news, they do so in a public place. Much less likely to cause a scene and all that." The truth was that a public date was quite different of a concept for them, as they usually spent time at each other's apartments or with some version of takeout.

"I don't think that our setting would curb your ability to make a scene," he answered. "I just felt that we should get out and enjoy life rather than stay cooped up."

"Tired of hiding?" She knew that the hiding from people would wear thin for them. While both were truly loners, it was hard to imagine dating without at least the occasional trip out somewhere. However, the recent media attention seemed to only add to the discomfort of that.

"It has been quite enjoyable in some respects," he answered with a wry wink, "but I agree that rejoining civilization seems appropriate. And I dare say we haven't yet been run out of town." He threw a glance around the dimly lit restaurant where everyone was sipping wine or noshing on bruschetta – a trademark of the chef.

"So far so good," she agreed. "But tell me more about work. Are things better? They believe you, right?"

"David was a godsend in that department," Killian admitted after ordering wine for them. "He spoke with Eric and explained that he, Regina, and I had been led to believe that the contract was approved by all those needed. It was a matter of the deal being $14 over that would necessitate five bids. So it was an honest mistake that will be dealt with promptly at the next council meeting."

"I'm happy for you," she answered, reaching for a breadstick. "But I can't help but wonder why Sidney would make such a big deal over this. It doesn't seem to have much traction for a story."

"Aye, quite confounding."

They continued their conversation over the soup and salad and well into the entrée that Emma moved about her plate. Killian explained that his contracts would have another set of checks and balances, a precaution for the time being. He did not seem that upset about it, but before she could ask him if this was permanent or if his relationship with Eric was strained, her phone chirped in the pocket of her jacket. She looked at him regretfully.

"I told Elsa to call if she heard anything," she apologized. "Sorry."

"It's fine," he said. "Take the call."

Emma saw the familiar number on the phone and hesitated. That was not because she didn't want to talk to Mary Margaret, but her contacting her on such an evening was odd. "Everything okay?" she asked before even greeting her friend. Her face went pale as the teacher spoke and her hand clutched at the butter knife as though it was an appropriate defense. The call was ended quickly and Emma pushed herself up to standing so fast that she almost hit her head on one of the overhanging lights. She looked at Killian, less apologetically and more tensely. "We have to go to the school. Something has happened."

 ** _Another cliffhanger? Sorry about that._**


	17. Chapter 17

**_I hope that my posting again tonight gets me forgiven for the cliffhanger. Thanks again for the comments and such. I enjoy reading how much you like something or how I've made you scream in frustration over leaving you hanging._**

The thermostat at the local school was on a timer, which made for a cold building when Emma and Killian entered through the front door that evening. The hallways were all dark, except for the emergency lights that were set near exits and other strategic locations. Killian had mentioned a few times on the way over that it was colder than normal for that time of year, but Emma had taken it just as him trying to make conversation in a tense situation.

"What exactly did she say?" Killian asked, taking double steps to keep up with her as she pushed through the double doors into the principal's office area. Mary Margaret was seated in a waiting chair, a tissue in one hand and her phone in the other. Emma had not told him why they were at the school or even why she had said they both needed to go.

"He's missing," Emma said, the gravity of the two words feeling heavy against her. Was she there as the law or as a loved one? She wasn't even sure of her role in this other than as a supporter of her friend.

Killian's brow furrowed as he considered the two words. Emma had not said much about the child she had placed for adoption, even less about where he was currently. So that was not the first thought that sprang to Killian's mind as he saw the blonde embrace the teacher.

"He was working on the science fair project," Mary Margaret hurriedly explained. "Several of the children were earning extra credit by helping to set up for it. I went to get some baking soda and when I came back…" Her voice cracked with emotion. "The staff checked every inch of the school. David and Robin got here a few minutes ago. I just thought you would…you would want to know."

Emma tucked the brunette against her and rocked her slightly. "I'm sure it is going to be fine. He'll be fine."

"He's so young," the woman moaned. "And it's cold. He could be anywhere."

"He's strong," Emma reminded her friend of their conversation. "He's strong and resourceful and he'll be fine."

"Is that your professional opinion, Ms. Swan?" Regina asked as she stepped into the office. "My son is missing and you're comforting the woman who lost him? That doesn't seem to fit the situation." The mayor's dour expression was punctuated by her folded arms and sharp glances between the three of them.

"I called Emma," Mary Margaret began to explain. "I wanted her to…"

"I'm sure that David and Robin have this covered Ms. Blanchard. Emma probably still has her hands full with other missing persons case. Don't you, Ms. Swan?" Mary Margaret cringed as the woman called them by their last names, the formality obvious. Regina had been in her life since she was a child, even having married her father for a while before he died when the teacher was just a teenager.

Killian made a move toward the mayor, his hand reaching toward Emma as if he wanted to defend her or protect her somehow, but the deputy stepped slightly to her right and blocked him.

"Regina, I am here to help any way that I can," Emma answered, her voice and stance firm under the woman's steely gaze. "You have every reason to be concerned, but I can assure you that in most of these cases…"

"I don't care for statistics," she spat back. "I want my son found." She might have meant to say more, but David and Robin entering was just the interruption to stop the exchange. While David stared sympathetically for a moment at both his fiancé and Emma, he addressed Regina with the authority of the sheriff.

"The school is clear," he said. "We've spoken to the other children and there is no sign that he may have said where he was going. Nobody has been seen around here at all that didn't belong. We're trying to access the security footage now."

"Access it faster," the mayor bit out bitterly, earning her a gently warning word from Robin as he said her name. "I want my son."

David shifted a bit uncomfortably. "Emma," he said, looking almost apologetic with his down cast mouth. "I hate to, but I need to ask. Have you seen Neal?"

Emma's eyes clenched shut as she tried to think of how to answer that question. "Not since this morning," she answered softly. "But he wouldn't…"

Regina's voice was not near as soft when she processed this question. "I'm sure, Sheriff Nolan, that there is a logical explanation of why you are asking about the whereabouts of the investigator I hired. But the ideas are escaping me right now. Why pray tell would Neal's whereabouts be pertinent here or are you just worried about the next bombshell article?" She practically hissed her question, pure venom in her eyes.

Mary Margaret went to speak first as the mayor silenced her with a look. So Emma took a deep breath to explain. "Neal is Henry's biological father," Emma said in way of explanation to Regina's hard glare. "He doesn't know about him though. He had left me in jail and didn't even know I was pregnant. I had no way to find him or to even…"

"So this man," Regina said, spatting out the word like it hurt her. "This man could be here to exert his parental rights? Is that what you're telling me Ms. Swan?"

"He doesn't know," Emma repeated. "After the court declared it abandonment, it was all settled. You have nothing to worry about there."

There was a coldness to Regina's stare that made all of them take a step back. "You say that, but my son is missing just days after his biological father shows up in this town. I think that is too big of a coincidence." She rotated a few degrees to face David and Robin. "I trust you know where to find this Neal person. Ms. Swan and I are going to continue discussing why I am just now hearing about this."

"Neal wouldn't hurt Henry," David said, sounding fairly weak in his confidence. "He's not like that. I'm sure if he knew that Henry was…"

"Find him," Regina ordered, her tone offering no questions. "Find him now."

Robin shot a glance at Emma and back at Regina before he backed out of the room with an open mouthed David behind him. It was true that they should look for Neal, though neither assumed him to be involved with Henry's disappearance. The glass doors shut behind them and only a slight sniffle from Mary Margaret could be heard.

"Ms. Swan," Regina said again, the authority in her voice boiling over with control. "I trust that you want the best for Henry. That's the reason for our arrangement. Open and honest communication that will not scar him or create an adverse nature to our relationship."

"Regina…"

"I'm not done," she added coolly. "I hope you understand that I did not have to include your in his life. The adoption was originally closed, but Dr. Hopper and others felt that he was going to do better with the knowledge that you had not just abandoned him."

Emma felt herself sway at the word abandon, feeling anxious that her son would somehow feel the same as she had felt. She had given him a better chance, a life that could sustain him. She had not thrown him away like garbage. She had afforded him that rather than the way she had been tossed aside. Her body moved to brush her shoulder against Killian, who was gripping her even tighter.

"Madam Mayor," Killian said, keeping his voice clipped and formal, mimicking the woman's own style. "I realize you're upset now, but if you think about it…"

"Of course I'm upset," Regina bemoaned, the pinched expression overriding the bleary eyed stare. "My son is missing. She wouldn't know what that's like. You wouldn't know what that's like. She may have given birth to him, Mr. Jones, but I'm his mother. And that is not going to change." One hand was on her hip and the other rested on the reception desk as though she was posing for some advertisement.

"I'm going to go see if I can help," Emma said, feeling less than comfortable about standing there under the gaze of the mayor. "I'm sure there is something…"

"Go home, Ms. Swan," Regina said. "I don't need your help with this. You've done enough damage, obviously."

Killian's mouth opened to remind her that she had invited Neal into Storybrooke, not Emma. He wanted to remind her that Emma had done everything to keep from upsetting the boy, including keeping her distance. But two cell phones chirped to life, the mayor and deputy both answering their respective phones and leaving Killian with a limited audience. He could hear Emma's end of the conversation the easiest, as Regina marched down the hallway with doors banging behind her.

"What do you mean come home?" Emma was sputtering into the phone. "I'm in the middle of…" The woman remained quiet for a second. "Ruby Lucas, I swear if you…" Again she was silent. The name of their friend was enough for Mary Margaret's head to whip toward Emma. Holding her hand up to silence first the teacher and the Killian, Emma continued the conversation.

After finishing, Emma looked at them both. Ruby said Henry is at my front door right now. She went by to see if I was home and found him. He said he wants to talk to me. He ran away from here."

Mary Margaret let out a loud breath, her hand covering her mouth. "Oh God…Regina. We…We need to…"

Emma shook her head again. "I'm going to go talk to him. I want to find out why he came to my place. There's just too many questions. We'll call Regina when we have a better plan." She gathered her belongings, tugging at her jacket as she walked toward the door.

"This might not be the best idea," Killian contributed. His mouth clenched as she gave his warning no attention.

"Emma," Mary Margaret said hesitantly. "I know you want to help, but he's…well, technically, Regina's his mother. She deserves to know…"

Killian took two steps toward Emma before he realized she had stopped. "I get that Mary Margaret," Emma said, her head snapping in the direction of the teacher. "I was there when I gave my son up to be adopted. I know what it was like. I know that she chose to be his mother. I know all that. But that little boy ran away from her for some reason. And he came to me. I owe it to him to find out what is so bad that he would choose to go to the person who couldn't even raise him. What is so bad that he would seek me out when he probably assumes that I never wanted him? Until I can answer that, I'm not calling Regina back here. I'm not going to put him through that until I have to do it." She turned back to the door. "Now I'm asking you to go with me because you know him. You can make this a little easier."

Rolling her bottom lip between her teeth, Mary Margaret gave a nod to the unseeing Emma and followed her out the door and toward the parking lot with Killian trailing them.

***AAA***

Ruby knew where Emma kept her spare key, so that meant that Henry was sitting on Emma's sofa the first time she laid eyes on the actual boy. His hair was a bit messy and his eyes darker than she had imagined after seeing the pictures. He was still wearing his school uniform, though it looked a bit wrinkled and messy after all day in it. Ruby was telling him about one of the photographs, explaining that she was not Emma's sister, but close enough.

A part of Emma was hurt that the little boy reacted to Mary Margaret first, wrapping himself around her and apologizing for making her worry. But she knew that he was more familiar with his teacher than the mystery of the woman who had placed him for adoption. She had wondered about this moment for quite a while. She had considered what to say and even silently practiced on the driver over. However, it was Henry that spoke first.

"I'm Henry," he said, disentangling himself from his teacher. "I'm your son." His grin was a hybrid between hers and Neal's. There is something crooked and yet sincere about it.

"Emma," she said, her voice hoarse.

He nodded. "I know." She couldn't help but notice he still had his backpack next to him and from the looks of it, he'd been doing homework while waiting outside her place. Leave it to her son to be so practical when in an obviously emotional state.

She could see Ruby leading Killian and Mary Margaret into the kitchen area. No, it didn't provide them with much privacy, but it was a bit easier than being on display with eye boring into them. "Your mom is missing you pretty badly," Emma said finally. "She's got a bunch of people looking for you."

"Figures," he said. "I just…I wanted to meet you. I wanted to know…I wanted to know things." He shifted bit and she could tell that his uniform blazer was a bit large for him. She could almost hear Regina talking about buying it a size larger so he can grow into it. Wasn't that something that a mother would say?

"You want to know why I chose adoption," she said, expecting the question. It wasn't as though the subject hadn't come up before. Heck, if she ever met her parents, she probably would have asked them the same thing. Who wouldn't want to know why they had been rejected on the first day of life?

"To give me a better chance, right?" He said with a little shrug that seemed awfully familiar. "I get that. I guess I want to know why you think living with her is better. Is she that much…I mean are you…"

"I wasn't that much older than you when you were born," Emma said, looking at him and regarding the earnest eyes that held so much hope. "I was alone and scared, but that's not an excuse or even a reason. I'd never held a job. Not a real one. I stole things to get by. I slept in cars or on the bench inside a mall. I hung out in all night diners so that nobody would notice and then skipped out on the check. It wasn't a life for a baby." She backed herself up so that her legs hit the edge the chair and found herself sitting. He took the cue and sat on the couch before her.

"But you don't live like that now," he said.

"I grew up," she answered with an honest simplicity. "Part of that is because of you. Part is because I went to jail for a while and swore I'd never do anything to end up back there."

Ruby had given him water to drink, which seemed an odd refreshment for a child. However, Emma realized that her drink selection was a bit low. A few bottles of beer. Some wine. Maybe some expired milk or juice. She had been sleeping at Killian's more often and he usually brought drinks with him. And the only other option was coffee. That didn't seem appropriate either.

"Did you…Do you think about me? Wonder about me?" There was less hope in those questions. He was just like her in that moment, vulnerable and insecure. Who wouldn't be?

"Every day," she told him. "I hear you have a pretty good life. You're smart. You have friends. Your mom loves you."

Three little lines appeared between his eyes. "She's…she's…"

Emma tried to smile at him. She'd been around children before both in her days in group homes and a little bit at work. And try as she might, she did not want to show him how nervous this made her. She was talking to her son. She was hearing him. That little flutter she had felt when she was pregnant was a real boy. Those legs that had kicked her insides until she thought she might have internal bruises were now in front of her. "Henry," she said, trying out the name again. She'd never asked Regina why he was named that. Did she have a right to know? "Is something wrong at home? Is that why you're here?"

She'd heard of and even lived through horror stories of adoptive and foster parents who were abusive and abrasive. There were stories that made her sick with fear. There were some that made her cry for what could have been in her life. She searched his eyes for those haunted signs, the maturity that was beyond his years and the fear that had turned to desolation. She didn't see it.

"She loves me," he said matter-of-factly. "She just…I'm her whole life and it worries her that I might…that I might want to know you."

"She's your mom," Emma said in the same unaffected tone. "I gave up that right so we have to respect that."

"You gave it up," he said as though he was the one explaining it to her. "You gave it up, but I didn't. What if I want to get to know you? What if…"

Emma's eyes left the boy in front of her and the silent list she was making in her mind of his similarities to her and Neal. She could hear the breathing in the kitchen and for a moment was amused that Killian was probably just as enthralled as Ruby and Mary Margaret. She wouldn't have been surprised if she heard them popping popcorn, but that might diminish their ability to eavesdrop. "We need to talk to your mom about that," Emma said firmly. "I am not going to go behind her back to get to know you. It's not that easy, you know. She probably worries that I'll do something wrong or that I will corrupt you. We have to prove we can handle this. And that includes you calling your mom and explaining where you are." She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out her phone, passing it over to him. "Deal?"

He nodded slowly. "Maybe we could go to Granny's or something?" he asked, his hopeful tone back on display. "I like her lasagna and her grilled cheeses. Oh and her pies."

"If your mom says that is okay, then I'm fine with that. Let's call her and see."

 ** _Yes, this chapter was shorter, but I hope it makes up for last time's cliffhanger. As someone who has adopted a child, I have often wanted a little more depth into the Henry/Emma dynamic. I may not be the biggest Regina fan, but I can understand her being worried. I would be worried if my daughter's birth mother was around._**


	18. Chapter 18

**_So one more chapter before the week begins. I feel like I have said this a lot lately, but I'm not sure when the next update will occur. My family and I have found ourselves living in the worst apartment we could imagine. It's horrible. So we have decided to move for the second time in a month. That means I have less than six days to pack our stuff back up, schedule movers, get utilities turned on, and get us settled into a very nice house. Needless to say, I'm feeling the stress of motherhood, working, being a wife, being a daughter to two aging parents, and moving. AGGGGHHHHH!_**

 ** _With that said, thank you for your comments. They truly do make me smile when the day pretty much sucks. In this chapter you will notice I gave Albert Spencer the last name of Nolan. I realize the show didn't do that, but I needed to for the plot._**

Emma told him that he didn't have to stay as she puttered around her apartment upon the dismissal of everyone else. Ruby and Mary Margaret had stayed until Regina arrived and left, neither saying much other than holding her hands as the mayor lashed out or Ruby telling Henry to seek her out the next time he was in the diner for a free piece of apple pie on her. Regina had seemed hurt by Henry's interest in his biological mother, but most of that had been expressed in a silent rage that flared behind her eyes.

"Perhaps we best get the boy home," Robin had said to her before she could say anything too harsh. Even Emma, who was shaking with nervous energy, had seen his gentle way of touching Regina's shoulder and the familiar look of recognition from Henry. Clearly the rumors of their involvement were true.

David had arrived with the mayor too, reminding her that Henry had sought Emma out on his own and that did not necessitate either an investigation or any charges. He had smiled sympathetically at the young blonde woman, said something quietly to Killian, and led Mary Margaret away with the reminder that the next day was a school day.

Emma had disappeared into her bathroom where she had removed makeup and brushed her teeth, emerging fresh faced with her hair pushed back from her eyes. Killian wasn't sure if she was truly surprised to see him or if it was simply a surprise that she was not alone.

"I thought you left," she said, dropping her earrings into a silvery tray on her dresser. "I'm fine."

He didn't think she should be alone, but that would probably have made her think he considered her weak. So he didn't say that. "I wanted to stay." He pulled his sweater up over his head and began to unbutton his shirt, aware that her eyes were on him as if he were performing a strip tease rather than a simple act of undressing. He turned his head to catch her eyes, but she had disappeared into the bathroom again. Seconds later she emerged with a new toothbrush in her hand.

"A toothbrush?" he asked in a bit of surprise when she handed it to him.

Her teeth barely showed in the tight grin of her mouth. "You probably didn't bring one," she said nonchalantly as if she had dozens stashed away for overnight guests. "And you know, morning breath and all."

His hand was curled over hers and both wrapped around the plastic and paper casing. "He seems like a good lad," he told her, bravely broaching the subject. He knew at once that was a mistake from the flash of pain across her eyes and the part of her lips as she blew out a rush of air.

"I didn't have anything to do with that," she bitterly reminded him. "If you want to compliment something under my control…compliment the shape of his mouth or that his earlobes are detached. All I can take credit for is the DNA. Though from looking at him, that's mostly Neal." She wrenched her hand back and passed him on her way to the other side of the bed. The room was small and most of it was taken up by the bed, creating small paths that were serviceable for one person and harder for two.

He dropped his head a bit, following her lead and cleaning up a bit before he joined her in the bedroom again. He slid in as quietly and carefully as he could, not wanting to jostle her if she was asleep so quickly. "You don't have to stay," she said, her voice small and almost shaking. "I'm fine."

"Perhaps I feel like staying," he said, his hands not reaching out to her but folding on his chest as he laid on his back with eyes toward the ceiling. His desire to hold her was tempered with the realization that she was probably going to pull away. He could tell that the inner struggle was ready boil out. She didn't want anyone, including him, to see it.

She grunted a reply that he assumed meant she did not agree with his assessment. "I have to tell him, don't I?" she asked, rolling to her back and then to face him. "I can't just ignore this."

Her nose buried into his shoulder and her hand lay across his folded ones. "Aye, I can't see a way around it, love," he agreed. "Hardly fair to either Neal or the lad to hold the information back at this point."

She moved up, kissing that spot where his t-shirt met his neck. "I was hoping you'd argue with me on that one."

He felt her lift his arm over her and snuggle into his side, not waiting for him to offer her the comfort. Again, he was taken aback that she was willingly letting him see the more vulnerable side of herself. While he had not known her too long, he could make an educated guess that she was not the type of woman who did that sort of thing.

"He seemed okay, didn't he?" she asked. The change of subject harsh and jarring to him. "Henry, I mean. He seemed okay here. He didn't seem too scarred by my placing him for adoption." Her body was curled into a little ball at his side, knees drawn up and her head resting just over his heart. "I don't want him to feel abandoned. I know that feeling and it sucks."

"I didn't see him for long," Killian answered a bit hesitantly. "But he seemed fine. He is obviously a smart child to seek you out. And he handled Regina like a pro. Quite impressive."

"I thought he might hate me." She turned so her chin rested on him. In the dark it was hard to see the blue of his eyes that she had come to use to read his expressions. His fear, his adoration, his insecurity, his bravado all mirrored back at her there. "I think I would hate my parents if I met them now. At least dislike them for all that…"

"Different situations," Killian answered. "Love, you didn't abandon the lad. He was given a home, shelter, food, a parent who obviously loves him. You did not leave him on the side of the road. You didn't promise him so much and then disappear one morning without a single word or note of explanation."

She had forgotten his vague references to a father who abandoned him. But she could tell from his voice that he still had shards of that young boy inside him. The sharp edges dulled by time and perhaps understanding, but they still remained. "I know that and you know that, but he's young. Children see the world in much simpler terms."

"Yes," he agreed. "But I sense that you have been given a chance with the boy to prevent such bitterness in his life. Perhaps it will do us all some good."

***AAA***

David's shirt was ironed and smelled of the starch spray that he had used. It always reminded him of his mother, as she had ironed his shirts before school only for him to try to crumple them so he did not look as though he was trying so hard. However, the scent of that spray always gave him away.

Mary Margaret had offered to come with him, claiming that her planning period was something she could skip to be with him. But he had refused, wanting to deal with his father on his own without having to worry about her reaction to the cruel things the man would say.

The office building was not that impressive, but anything involving his father always seemed to be more formal than familial. The building where the district attorney offices were house had been a former boarding house back in the early days Maine. His father had paid his own money to have it restored and outfitted with antiques that now held modern computer equipment. Thick and plush rugs covered sections of the original hardwood floors that had been polished to a brilliant shine. Each of the former bedrooms housed offices, file rooms or conference areas with transom windows and ledges where assistants watered thriving plants. In the foyer area, just in front of a double staircase, sat an oak reception desk. An older woman with her hair in a tight bun sat there and greeted each visitor with the same stern yet grandmotherly look.

"Sheriff Nolan," she said, eying the man over the rims of her glasses. "I don't have you down to see your father today." The woman was a stickler for her schedules, something she had picked up from years at working there. His father hated surprises and more than that, hated to be taken off guard.

"I was hoping he might have a moment," David said, ignoring her gesture to sit in one of the Queen Anne chairs of the waiting area. "I really need to see him." His father's office was at the top of the stairs, door open to indicate he was not in a meeting and probably listening to the exchange. David was already up a few steps by the time the woman called to alert her boss.

Albert Spencer Nolan was halfway between sitting and standing as his son entered the room. His thin lips were even tighter in a firm line of dissatisfaction. The few hairs on his head were shock white. "You should have called," he told his son. "I would have met you some place."

"Not a social visit," David told him, throwing himself into one of the brown leather chairs. "I want to know something. And you summoned me two days ago."

"And you ignored the summons." The district attorney waved his hands in a gesture to indicate he would answer anything. As usual David was struck by the neatness of the office. Nothing was out of place. A single notepad sat in the center of the desk with perfectly lettered notes on the lined sheets. Law books in leather covers sat behind glass doors with photographs of the man with various political officials and dignitaries. There were no family photos or child made gifts from the boys' youth.

"The investigation, this case of the missing people, and even…" David frowned with the question forming in his head. "I've noticed that you seem very involved in them."

David paused as his father grimaced, pulling a white mint out of a cut crystal dish. "The polls are not looking good, David." The man's hands rested loosely on the arms of his chair. "This town, people in general, want leadership. They want a man in charge of law enforcement who takes charge, doesn't delegate, and wins." The older man searched his son's eyes for something, not finding it, he returned to his cold expression. "You are good at passing the buck, David. You want everyone who works for you to be successful. Do you know what would happen if I did that. One of these junior district attorneys asked for a bigger case the other day. He's capable, quite smart actually. But if I give him a case that big, it doesn't do me any good. People remember the person in the fight, not the man who trained them. Give too many of those away and I'm toast in the next election. People will assume I can't handle it. Or they will assume I don't want it."

"I can't take every case, father," he answered severely. "I have a life. I can't work 24 hours a day."

"Yes, you must be exhausted after spending time with your new fiancé, that teacher." Mr. Nolan's voice was forceful and full of disdain upon revealing that he was aware of the engagement. Never mind that David wasn't hiding the information. "I thought we discussed this. You and I both thought that it might enhance your image to make such a gesture a bit more public."

"My engagement isn't a public relations tactic," David reminded him. "So what did you summon me about?"

The man smiled, almost a sickeningly sweet look on his normally grim face. "The missing person's case. It is getting a fair amount of attention, isn't it?"

"You read the papers," David said noncommittedly. "Along with dragging my reputation and Emma's through the mud, I would say the other stories are typically about Anna and her fiancé."

Mr. Nolan nodded tightly at that. "The investigation into the money is over now. Even that ugly little matter with the authorization to purchase that rescue equipment has shown you to be capable and a great leader."

"It could have ruined a man's career, not to mention mine and Regina's," he pointed out to his father who was already chalking up the news coverage that did not skewer his son as a victory. "Regina and I both should have been more careful with that. Her advisor even admitted as much."

"Her advisor has a name," Mr. Nolan spat out. "Katheryn. You know, the woman who would have made an excellent match for you had you not gotten it into your head to become involved with that teacher."

David wanted to remind his father that the teacher had a name too, but it seemed juvenile to argue such things. He instead focused his attention on his father's insistence that he regain the lead status in the missing persons' investigation. "Emma is doing a fine job," he insisted. "She's the best deputy for it with her experience looking for lost people."

"If she is so good, she would have found them by now." The older man continued to disparage the deputy's clout and reputation. "I said nothing when you hired her though I knew that it wouldn't be long before that past of hers came back to haunt all of us. She's a criminal. She has never even apologized to the jewelry store owner for the theft of those watches."

"You said nothing?" David asked, incredulous to the man who had lectured for hours upon learning of David's hiring the blonde woman. "You said plenty and all of it was insulting and horrible. Emma is a good person, practically family to me. She deserves respect for the wonderful job that she does, not veiled insults and threats from you."

It was an old argument between the two, one that was repeated when Ruth was still alive. Upon Emma's initial return after her stint in jail, Mr. Nolan had made a big show of consulting attorneys and declaring that she won't inherit a dime of the family money. David had always assumed that it was Emma's lack of caring about such things and insistence that she would not defend herself to anyone who didn't truly matter that really goads the elder Nolan. He was used to people fighting with him, trying to prove that his assessment of them was wrong. It was a tactic that he used quite well in the courtroom. Emma did not play that game, simply moving on and avoiding him instead.

"Are you accusing me of something?" the man asked, sarcasm dripping from the harsh edge to the voice.

"I was trying to figure it out," David said, gauging his father's reaction. "I couldn't figure out who or why Emma's record was released to the press. Few people knew of it. Me, Mary Margaret, Ruby, Regina, and you. None of those people had anything to gain from it so it didn't make sense to me. So then I thought that maybe Sidney was just being cruel, but it still didn't explain how he got access to a juvenile record that was sealed."

The older man again asked his son if he was being accused of anything.

"You are the one who tipped off Sidney. For whatever reason, you wanted to hurt Emma and her reputation. You wanted people to think she had taken the money instead of me being accused of mismanaging it." David's face cleared, realizing that Emma's distrust for the man was not unfounded in the least. "You didn't believe that I could actually be innocent. So you set her up. The same as…You set her up."

"She is a thief working in a high powered position. Money went missing. It is not that far of a leap."

***AAA***

The coffee that she had made and poured that morning upon arriving at work is now more of a cold sludge, but she had not managed to throw it out yet and replace it with new. A few times she even caught herself trying to drink it despite knowing that it is inedible now. The map and data provided by the cell phone carrier is both overwhelming and helpful as she and Robin had spent at least three hours going over the data.

The phone that Anna had used, one of those throw away varieties that can be hard to trace, pinged off a cell tower on an island close to the coast of Maine. The island itself was small and not home to anything more than the tower, rocks, and a smattering of trees. There wasn't even a beach or a shoreline. Still, the state police were on their way there to take a look around just in case.

"It is just as likely she was on a boat that traveled close to it," Robin said, measuring off coordinates on the map and tracking likely routes given the time of the call, tidal charts and the like.

"Still doesn't answer whose boat or what she is doing on it." Emma reached for the cup again and pulled her hand back sharply. "I need to get rid of that."

"State police said something about a man's boat," Robin said. "What of that? Have you checked into the situation?"

"They don't know his name for sure," Emma said, shuffling through to where she had notes on the matter. "Edward Black, age 38, and had a boat named Anne docked here in Storybrooke for more than 18 months. Two days before Anna and Kristof disappeared, the boat is gone."

"So we need to find this Edward person, right?" Robin asked the obvious question. His lips quirked up in a smile. "However, if it was that easy I suspect you would have done it by now."

"Edward Black doesn't seem to exist. We can't find any trace of him other than this boat. State police think they might have a capture from a surveillance camera the day the boat was moved, but no luck yet. Their men are working on it." She had been woken that morning by a gruff sounding police chief who had barked orders in her ear and then talked to his granddaughter in a totally different voice.

"So it is obviously an alias," piped in John. Emma had learned long ago that John's words were never given that freely. He preferred to remain quietly observant and hold back for just the right moment. "The picture could help though."

Emma nodded. "Elsa said she didn't know of anyone named Edward, nor does she know anyone who owns a boat matching that description. I just hope this isn't a dead end." There had been far too many of those. She'd already questioned every party guest. The catering crew, the band, and cleaning staff had been next. It was all coming up empty.

"That Hans guy sounds guilty," Robin chimed in, his finger tracing out a line on the map. "Any word on his alibi?"

Emma explained that Hans and his brothers seemed to have that covered. It wasn't for lack of trying, but she was beginning to see few avenues to pursue with the man. He was clearly not going to budge, despite the fact that he was the only one with motive. His lawyer had him clamming up. That was never a good sign.

The trio continued their work for a while, ignoring the bad mood of David and the absence of Graham, who had been sent on some errand or another. John was the first to take a break, agreeing to do to the routine patrol of the city that was done every few hours. Emma was about to suggest breaking for lunch when her phone chirped.

Killian: Care for a bite of lunch? I'm in the area and thought I might ask.

Emma: I can't really leave. Can you bring something here?

She managed to convince him to bring sandwiches and various sides for both her and Robin, as well as a special order for David who was in his office clearly sulking. When Killian arrived, he and Emma both had to laugh at the childlike way that Robin dove for the bag before even acknowledging the other man's presence.

"Glad to offer you some nourishment, mate," Killian said with a laugh as Robin thanked him between bites.

"Being a deputy isn't as glamorous as television makes it look," Emma had laughingly said. "We're usually reduced to vending machines and convenience stores. "Hardly nutritious fare."

Emma and Robin tried to entertain him with a few funny stories of their time in the department. Stakeouts that went awry or arresting Leroy after he and six of his friends decided serenade Mary Margaret for some unknown reason. "We weren't planning to arrest them, mind you," Robin said, sharing a laughing glance at Emma. "But when we got there half of them stripped down and jumped into the fountain near her apartment. Started screaming that they didn't match the description of who we were looking for."

Emma shook her head, remembering it as her second week on the job. "It was a mess. I saw more of Leroy than I ever wanted to see. Made me think about changing careers."

"You have that thought every day," Robin said, waving a chip in her direction. "We all do."

Killian had managed to gulp down a few bites himself when David emerged from the office with his face an emotionless mask. He nodded at Killian and Robin before handing Emma a print out. "State sent that a few minutes ago. It's a picture of the man from the docks. Kind of blurry, but it's the best we've got."

Emma studied the black and white screen capture, discerning any detail she could from the pixelated image. "I don't recognize him." She could Robin chewing and crunching as he leaned over her shoulder to stare at the picture himself.

"Is that a beard or did he eat something furry for lunch?" When Emma scoffed at his off color remark, he shrugged. "I don't recognize him either. I guess we could take it down to the docks to see what we can turn up. Maybe someone saw him. I mean if you did, he'd be hard to miss."

Killian swallowed his last bite, leaning forward slightly as he looked at the image upside down. "Looks like Edward Teach," he said, tilting his head to the side to look at it more carefully. "Yeah, just like him."

David rolled his eyes, snatching the paper back from Emma. "You mean like the pirate who died long before any of us was born." He expected the two deputies to laugh with him. "You can't be serious."

"I'm aware of the legend of Blackbeard," Killian said. "But there was a man down in our sales department who had a bit of an obsession with him. I dare say it was borderline psychotic. Horrible fellow. I had a few run ins with him where he tried to steal a commission account or two. Last I heard he was working in the area."

"Well if his parents named him after Blackbeard, I guess it makes sense he might have a bit of an obsession," Robin said, staring back at the picture again. "I once had an obsession with Robin Hood myself for the very same reason. Even tried to teach myself archery, but after I nearly hit the cat with an arrow I quit that."

"He was born Edward Black or something like that," Killian said with a snicker at the mental image of Robin shooting arrows and wearing green tights. "Changed it to the pirate's name a few years ago."

Emma yanked the page back, practically tearing it. "Do you know where he lives?" Emma asked Killian, ignoring the sputtering from David.

"Aye," Killian offered. "At least I used to know. I can find it." He cast a look at all three in turn. "Is this about this case you've been working on?"

Emma smiled brightly at Killian. "You got it," she said, lifting herself on her toes and gifting him with a kiss to his cheek. "David's going to call Eric to tell him you're going to be out this afternoon. We've got a pirate to find."

David agreed with a grumble, reminding her unnecessarily to check in with him as often as she could. Before Killian could even realize it, Emma was bundling herself up and grabbing one of the sets of keys to a patrol car. Grabbing his scarf, she tossed it over his shoulders and pulled him back for another kiss, thanking him as she did.

"You don't thank me like that when I give you tips," Robin grumbled, throwing on his own coat to follow with them.

"Regina wouldn't like it," Emma said over her shoulder. "And I try to stay on her good side."

 **** ** _Not too much romance in this chapter, but I needed to move the mystery plot along some._**


	19. Chapter 19

**_I was able to get another chapter in before we have to change internet service providers again for the move. This is a shorter chapter, but important to how things work out._**

Robin sat the driver's seat, holding his phone at an odd angle to avoid the sun's glare on the screen. His lips were parted slightly as he read the list of possible addresses to himself. "Either he's hiding from the law or he's got a bunch of unpaid debts. This man moves around more than anyone I've ever seen." He leaned forward to peer under the visor. "Doesn't look like he's moving up in the world."

"I'm willing to bet it is a legal thing," Emma said, twisting in the passenger seat to look back at Killian. The salesman was currently on hold with his boss's fiancé to see if she could garner the information on Edward Black or Edward Teach from human resources. She had a way with the staff there, much better than Killian who usually was told his request would take four to six weeks. That went for everything from requesting office supplies to a change to his benefits package. "I don't see people move that often for some student loans or credit cards."

"I don't know," Robin droned, snapping back up as someone pulled in a few doors down. "That Sallie Mae can be a bit of a wanker when it comes to people owing her money."

Emma gave a short laugh, focusing her attention on Killian. "Any luck?" she asked. She had yet to call Elsa with an update, as they were not even sure if there was any progress. It was all pretty vague at the moment. Killian simply shook his head, holding the phone close to his ear with the tinny sound of canned music trilling softly. "You know you look pretty at home in the back of a squad car." She smiled at his annoyed expression.

"While you're plotting ways to kill your girlfriend for that remark, mate," Robin said, straining his neck to look through one of the car's mirrors at the space behind them, "be sure to keep your eyes peeled for the pirate man. "You're the one who knows what this bloke looks like. Our image is a bit skewed."

Emma typed a message to David into her phone that was responded to only seconds later. "David said that the judge is considering giving us the warrant for questioning," Emma confirmed. He's there now pleading our case."

Robin nodded, eyeing the passersby with idle curiosity. "That's good, I guess." He tried the best he could to stretch in the crowded bench seat. "Is it appropriate for me to ask why he's not using the papa connection? His father's the district attorney."

"That relationship isn't always the best," Emma reminded her co-worker. She wasn't even sure what the current issue David was having with his father was about. She could assume that it was something to do with Mary Margaret and the engagement, but it could be so many other things. "I am glad to see him stepping out a bit on his own."

Robin accepted that answer, nodding absently. "I'm a bit hungry," he said, breaking the silence again. "Anyone care for some snacks." He quickly explained to Killian that while the patrol car was outfitted with equipment, weapons, and other accessories, the deputies kept their favorite snack foods in the car too. Emma warned that it was not exactly that great first impression for Killian to law enforcement.

"It's not a stakeout and we just ate," she reminded him. "It's not time to break out the Cheetos and Kool-Aid." Those were actually John's preferences. Graham always went with bear claws and coffee, while Robin preferred jerky and sugary soda. Emma went for cold Chinese food.

Grumbling, Robin sank lower in the seat muttering to himself about unfair rules and boredom. Emma might have responded, but she heard Killian's excited voice thanking Ariel. "Brilliant, lass," he said enthusiastically. "I'm in your debt. Be sure to tell that lad you're insisting upon marrying that I shall take you both out for dinner soon."

Emma stared at him expectantly, her left eyebrow raising as he so often did. She half expected him to wink at the woman on the other end of the phone and was thankful it wasn't a Facetime or Skype discussion. When he ended the call, she all but said, "What?" in her both frustrated tone.

"We're at the right place," Killian answered, wiping the phone against his leg before dropping it into his jacket pocket. "He came into the offices about a week before the two went missing. He was asking about cashing out his 401K, as he had need of a little liquidity."

Robin nodded along as though he had already heard this. "Man needs money. Man and boat disappear." He appeared to be checking off some invisible list. "Makes sense to me."

Emma rolled her eyes, tapping out another message for David as Robin waxed nostalgic. "Back in the day, the quickest communication was morse code across the telegraph. We've not moved that much farther, only more mobile."

Killian's mouth opened, but shut it quickly as Emma's phone rang with a call of David. She and Robin quickly changed into their more strategic modes, Emma pointing out exits and possible weak points as Robin begins calculating which windows might be Edward's. Killian was watching in awe, a bit shocked to see Emma's cunning on display like that. However, his mood soured as she removed her service revolver from her shoulder holster and checked it with precision. She seemed rather cold compared to her earlier disposition. "David's on his way with the warrant. Killian, you're to move up here to the front of the car. Promise me that you won't come inside the building. We need you to stay put."

Killian looks almost confused that she would not see the need for him. He wasn't quite sure what he would do in the situation to help, but the idea of sitting still while she runs into possible danger seemed somehow wrong. He was grappling with the words to explain that to her when she signed and nodded in the direction of an approaching truck.

Robin saw Killian's expression in the mirror. "It's alright, mate. This is hardly one of our worst situations." With instructions for Killian to stay put, Emma and Robin were both out of the car and walking toward the building. Unlike the movies, the two of them were not holding their guns at the ready. Instead, they were walking swiftly and with laser focus. He'd seen Emma in more than a few moods since meeting her at that bar. There was her sarcastic and caustic mood that she used to brush people aside. There was her sultry and sexy demeanor when she was in bed with him. There was a sweetness to her when she was cuddled up with him or doing something for one of her friends. There was a nurturing side when he'd seen her speak to her son. He'd seen the angry, the happy, the humorous, the proud. All of them were uniquely part of Emma Swan. However, this part of her struck him even more than before. The strength of her resolve was something he already knew. However, with it on display he could not help but feel a bit inadequate.

He was not used to the fear and apprehension of watching her march off into an unknown situation. He'd known that she was a deputy, known that she was in a dangerous profession. But the picture of her walking into that building was not something he was prepared to see.

***AAA***

Emma's eyes darted about the hallway of the building, looking for anything that might seem misplaced. It was an older building with sagging floors and creaking wood that would have driven her insane with the constant groans and aches of age. Holding herself in the ready position, she was barely thinking of anything other than finding this man and making him tell about Anna and Kris.

David was next to her with Robin trailing and keeping one glance trained behind them. "Anything seem odd to you?" he asked, walking gingerly around the debris on the floor.

Robin answered no when Emma interrupted. "It's a family building," she commented lowly. "I'm not seeing a lot of singles here." She counted the doors again, frowning at the realization. "At least two and three bedroom places."

"Not a typical choice for a bachelor with financial difficulties," Robin chimed in as they passed by one apartment with a television blaring some children's program. "Interesting."

David looked the most concerned, considering what few facts they had on this man other than his obsession with a dead pirate and his lack of funds. "Could he be married?"

Emma considered the idea for a moment. "No wedding ring in the photo, but I guess that could be…"

David was clearly going for something else, his frustration evident. However, his observations were lost as a group of children ran past them in the hallway, practically knocking into the three with the exuberance. Robin grumbled something about children having no respect, but the trio did not vary from their walk to the door of the apartment.

It was David that knocked, a good three times and then once again for good measure. He called out that they were from Storybrooke Sheriff's Department, but there was no answer and no sound of rustling or movement in the confines of the apartment. Emma stared at the door as though it might suddenly reveal the man's whereabouts.

"I'll see about the manager," Robin offered to a nodding David.

***AAA***

"Ms. Blanchard?" Henry asked, coming up to his teacher resting his hands on her desk next to a stack of graded vocabulary assignments. It was a morning ritual with her students that they checked each other's work and she recorded the grades before giving them back to them before lunch. She was running a bit late today. "Can I ask you something?"

Mary Margaret looked startled for someone to be speaking in the quiet classroom. While she usually still had them in her room, her students were across the hall watching a movie about chromosomal pairs with another class. The small break gave her the opportunity to rest for a moment, as she was still tired from the night before.

"You're supposed to be across the hall, Henry," the teacher told him, her firm line of a mouth given away by her smiling eyes.

"I snuck out," he answered, then realized what he said. "I mean I…"

"You're getting too good at that," Mary Margaret acknowledged. "We need to do something about that, but you're here so let's ask the question."

"Do you think I'm anything like her?" he asked, his eyes dropping down to the paper in his hand. "I don't have her hair color or eye color. I don't…"

Her eyes blew open in surprise. "You mean Emma?" she asked, drawing her lips together and blowing out a single puff of air. "I don't that this is the time…"

Defeated, his shoulders dropped down. "I just thought since you know her and all that you could tell me. I've always wondered."

She bit her lip nervously, watching the boy shift in front of her like he was waiting for bad news. "You are smart like she is," the teacher offered him. "She never really had to study. Never had time for it, but she could ace a test by reading the chapter once. That's something, right?"

He nodded, a small smile growing slowly on his face. "Does she like…"

"Henry, I think you need to go back to the movie, okay? You can ask her about some of your similarities later. Maybe you and Dr. Hopper can make a list of them. That way you're prepared." She tried not to imagine Emma's reaction to her son's incessant questioning, as the blonde would probably choke at some of them. Digging through the piles of paper on her desk, Mary Margaret pulled out a sheet of paper with the vocabulary homework grades on it. "By the way, good job on your homework last night. I know you didn't have much time to put into it, but you did great."

He smiled almost shyly, nodding his head at her. "Thanks, Ms. Blanchard." He hesitated. "I didn't mean to ask too much. It's just I've always wondered about her. And now I've actually met her. She's pretty nice."

"Emma is very nice," the teacher concurred. "Henry, I know this is going to take some getting used to for you, Regina, and Emma, but I think it will work out well. Emma…well, Emma has always wondered about you. She has always cared about you and hoped that things were going well."

He nodded again, the homework rustling in his hand. "Do you think it's okay that I want to get to know her. I don't want to hurt my mom, but she's kind of my mom too." There was a flush about his cheeks, whether from excitement or nervousness. "I don't want it to be like a competition."

"You love your mom," Mary Margaret said, choosing her words carefully. "Just be sure to let her know that isn't changing."

***AAA***

Killian had never felt so helpless as he did sitting between two people in the waiting room of Storybrooke General Hospital waiting for news on Emma. Fingers digging into his palms, he scanned the doors for any sign of official word as to her condition. It had been a nightmare of a scenario playing out before him as he had sat in the patrol car waiting, much like he was now. The first sign that something had gone wrong was the gun shot, followed by a scattering of locals and then David emerging with Edward in handcuffs.

The sheriff was grim faced as he had told Killian to vacate the patrol car and proceeded to place the man in the back of it as he barked orders into his radio. Most of the orders involved codes and acronyms that Killian didn't understand, but the salesman wasn't paying that close of attention as he stared at the doorway and waited for Emma to emerge.

After several minutes, Killian turned to David, who was still barking orders. David's eyes turned sympathetic at the look that Killian was shooting between him and the door. "She's fine, but she fell down the stairs. It's not a big deal, but I want to get an EMT to check her out."

The air seemed to fall out of him, leaving him hollow and heavy at the same time. His eyes searched David's expression for a clue of how fine Emma actually was at that moment. Did fine mean a few bruises? Did it mean broken bones? Was she hurt? Was she scared? His gut reaction was to run for the entrance, but the other state police officers had already arrived and were removing people from the scene – protocol for when someone discharges a gun.

"They'll have her out in a minute," David told him, placing a reassuring and firm hand on his shoulder.

It was Robin who came out first with the two EMT's trailing behind and bringing Emma out on a carry stretcher. She was certainly awake, complaining that she was fine and yelling to David that she wanted to question Edward. That at least put Killian somewhat at ease until he overheard Robin mention to the EMT that she had hit her head pretty hard on the fall and that she showed signs of other issues.

At that point Killian must have made a sound, as everyone out on the sidewalk turned toward him. He wanted reassurances, but at least their faces weren't sympathetic. Robin pushed him toward David's truck, catching the keys with his right hand and guiding Killian with his left. They had arrived more than half an hour before, but still no word on Emma.

"Can't be that bad," Robin said, pushing a lukewarm cup of coffee into Killian's hand and sitting across from him. "We'd hear her yelling. When my late wife had Roland, I could hear her down the hall before I even got to the room. She screamed like a bloody banshee, but all the nurses and the doctor acted like that was normal." Robin leaned a bit forward, elbows on his knees. "Women are tough, much tougher than we are sometimes. I don't doubt Emma is probably fighting them tooth and nail over something back there. No doubt about it."

"Aye, I hope you're right, mate," Killian offered. He knew that Emma was strong, but his own strength was more in question. He hated feeling helpless, even more so when it was in such a setting. Though he couldn't remember ever feeling that out of control before, his mind wandered without provocation to images that tore his heart in two. He'd learned that it was Edward who had shot at them. Emma had been maneuvering herself out of the line of fire when she fell. But what if she had been shot? His mind raced with the idea of her dying or being seriously hurt because of her job. How was he supposed to deal with that? How was he supposed to cheerfully see her off to work and pretend that there was not a possibility that she wouldn't make it back? He wanted a future with her, whatever shape that took. But her job meant that the future he wanted might not ever happen.

It was Victor who came out to greet Killian, his white coat demeanor different than his pool playing at the Rabbit Hole. "We're letting her go in a few minutes, but you can see her," the doctor said, flipping through a stack of charts until he found the right one. "Slight strain, but nothing too serious. She's going to be tough to keep down, but some ice and rest should help immensely. Nothing too strenuous, but light walking and such won't hurt."

"Any sign of a head injury?" he asked, not recognizing his own voice. The doctor thankfully assured him not and led him with a point down to the curtained off area where Emma sat in the same outfit as before with the exception of the boots that she had placed next to the bed.

"I'm fine," she announced as he made a knocking sound with his mouth to announce his arrival and ask permission to enter the space. "You didn't have to…"

He raised a single eyebrow in response. "I believe we had this same conversation last night, love. I am sticking by your side if you have to meet your son after 10 years or if you fall down a flight of stairs. I consider it to be a perk of the job of being your boyfriend."

She was trying not to smile at him, lips twitching as she frowned. "David's interviewing him, isn't he?" She reached into the pocket of the coat she had folded next to her, pulling out her phone and texting away with presumably David. She muttered a few things under her breath and looked back at him. "Were they headed to the state offices or to the local station?"

"I'm not privy to that information, darling," he said, taking a hesitant step toward the bed. He wanted to comfort her, hold her tight to him and let her wash away the fear of the confrontation with unshed tears and words. However, she was looking at him like she expected a status report and not like she wanted to be held.

Her frown deepened, the lines on her forehead more prominent with her concentration. "I don't know which makes more sense," she said more to herself than him. Her top teeth bit into her lip, leaving a small indentation. "David's not answering…"

"Emma," Killian said. Her lack of answer made him say her name again louder. "Emma, you're in a hospital. You're injured. You could have been killed. Would you stop worrying about…"

Her eyes flashed with a deep seated pain that he had not seen before from her. "This is my job, Killian. It's my career. I have to do it. I have to find Elsa's sister. It's important."

His frown was even stronger than her own, his body rocking backwards as if she had hit him. "Aye, I understand that, but David is capable. He's the bloody sheriff, not you. Let him take care of this for a bit so you have a chance to recover."

She wasn't seeing the fear in his eyes, not understanding that it was concern and not doubt fueling him. "You wouldn't understand," she said, falling back on that standard statement that so many used. "Your job isn't like this. I have to find out what's going on." She pushed herself off the bed and half limped her way toward the nurse's station.

"Emma," he called after her. "I'll see what Robin knows. Just come back and rest. You're supposed to…" She was already stating her demands to be released to a nurse and holding her phone to her ear where she was telling David's voicemail that she was on her way. For the first time since meeting Emma, Killian was not sure he truly understood what made the woman tick.


	20. Chapter 20

**_Hope you are still enjoying this fic. Coming to the close on it soon, but here's another chapter in the meantime. Enjoy!_**

The apartment was dark when Emma arrived, but she had lived there long enough that she could feel her way over to the lamp and illuminate the room easily enough. A stack of mail under one arm, leftover take out in one hand and her phone in the other, she limped to the couch and fell back against the cushions with a grunt.

Killian had texted her twice since she had left the hospital, once to make sure she knew where her prescription for pain medication was and once to wish her a good night. At the time she had not thought much of the texts, concentrating on the cryptic answers from Edward and trudging away at a new set of research parameters that the questioning opened up for the team. It seemed odd to her as she struggled out of the boots that felt tight around her swollen ankle that he would not have offered to stop by or even bring her something. She didn't expect him to do that, but it seemed to be something he did quite frequently.

 **Emma: Just got home. Going to ice the ankle and pop some meds.**

 **Killian: Sounds like a plan. Hope it feels better soon.**

She frowned at the almost clinical words on the screen. Not that everything had to be laden with innuendo or romance, but Killian was rarely that practical in his exchanges. She waited a moment, hoping that maybe he would follow it up with a comment about wanting her to be able to wear heels again or offering to make her breakfast in bed. However, no message came.

 **Emma: Are you alright?**

The dots indicating he was typing a message seemed to go on forever. Given the short nature of the message that followed, Emma was sure he had typed something and replaced it with the shorter answer.

 **Killian: Fine. Just tired. Sweet dreams.**

Wishing him a good night, Emma attempted to finish the rice bowl that she had grabbed from the pile of food at the station and then ready herself for bed. She hadn't spent every night with Killian over the past few weeks, but it felt rather empty to slide into bed without his arms around her. There was no warm breath on her neck or at her ear. The whispered comments were silent and she felt no warmth of his body next to hers.

For years Emma had sought out the solitude of her own place. As a child she hid under the covers of her bed and pretended it was her own room. The first time she had moved into her apartment, she had danced across the floor with the freedom that it provided. She loved ice cream in a shirt and no pants. Her favorite nights were watching reruns of Sex and the City while giving herself a pedicure. To bring someone else in, even as a guest, meant that she had to lose a bit of that. She had to have food and drinks in the kitchen instead of take out menus. She had to wear matching clothes and pick up after herself. But maybe, Emma thought, maybe it was worth it.

She shifted in the bed, flipping to her other side and wondering what she had done that made Killian so distant. She wasn't all that surprised that he was, but still it hurt a bit. Much more than a bit, if she was being honest with herself. To her horror she saw that her hand had reached out to the spot in the bed where he would have been, almost searching in vain for the beat of his heart under her fingers.

Even with the added benefit of the pain medication and her tired state, sleep did not come for her. She closed her eyes, imagining things she did not want to see at the moment. Her body seemed to be unable to relax, muscles tight and drawn as she waited.

"You're losing it," she told herself, throwing back the cover. All the magazines said to turn off your phone at night, let those work things go until morning. However, work was one of the few places Emma could find solace. Skimming through her e-mails she knew that things were progressing on the search for Anna, but it was still slow going. Edward had offered so little, but she knew he was involved. Call it a gut instinct, but she was convinced. She supposed she could call David or even John who was on duty that night. Maybe they would talk through this with her, help her brainstorm where else they could look while waiting for Edward to crack.

However, it wasn't their voices she wanted to hear. It was his. She wanted to talk to Killian, a thought that still did scare her a little. Before her nerves and self doubt could stop her, she pressed the speed dial button for him and waited for his familiar voice. She heard it after a few rings, but it was not as she had hoped with his recorded voice telling her to leave a message. Leaving a hasty one, she felt wholly unsatisfied and removed herself from the bed to pad back into the living room.

As was usual with her dance of insomnia, she turned on the television and flipped mindlessly through the channels. Clearly he was tired and sleeping, she told herself. It wasn't a sign of his disinterest in her, she added hastily. He wasn't having doubts already, but what if he was. Her feet and legs were propped inelegantly on the arm of her couch and she was hugging a throw pillow to her chest as an infomercial for a cleaning solution flickered on the television screen.

Maybe he would call, she thought to herself, staring as the screen of her phone faded to black.

***AAA***

Emma was not the only one with a ritual for insomnia. Killian suffered much the same fate as he read the same passage in his novel for the third time. The knitted throw that he could not remember how he originally came across was pooled around his lap, an excruciating reminder that Emma was not there stealing the blanket from around him.

In one of his more juvenile moments, Killian had seen Emma's name pop up on the screen of his phone and refrained himself from answering. Perhaps she knew that he was screening or perhaps she thought that he was asleep. Either seemed preferable to explaining the mix of thoughts inside his head.

He was proud of Emma, excited that she had found a career that both challenged and excited her. He'd watched snippets of the press conference and fallen all over himself with delight for her confidence and poise. But it didn't stop the fear inside him that had bubbled under the surface and now undeniably had reared its ugly head. The contempt he felt for his fear was palpable as he reminded himself over and over that she was doing her job – an admirable one that he envied and admired for its public service.

"I'm a selfish bastard," he thought as the words on the page swam with illegibility.

But even that knowledge about himself did not quell the frightening images of her lying in a pool of blood or a late night visit from David to tell him of her injury or death. He knew that their time together had been short so far, but he could not quite hold together the thought that it could be that fleeting. He wasn't sure that he was capable of seeing her leave each day without begging her to be safe and stay with him.

He'd been there before. He'd seen his father walk away without realizing it was the last time. His mother had been ill, but Killian had not realized the extent until his brother had delivered the news that she was now gone. He knew the saying that you don't know the last time is the last time was a very true one.

Yet even with the fear, he felt even worse for pushing her away. He listened to her message, the cracking voice and doubt making his stomach sour. His thumb hovered over the phone as he contemplated what to say. How could he make her understand that this was his issue and she was not at fault for his shortcomings? The knock at his door indicated that he had no more time to think, as even before he answered it, he knew she would be standing there.

She looked so much younger and more innocent than her years in the blue sweatshirt with the faded logo from Boston University, her hair falling in tangled waves over her shoulders. A few of strands knotted into a braid, indicating her nervous habit that she had when stopped at traffic lights or sitting alone. He had seen her do it so many times that he always felt the need to pull her in for a hug when he saw the signs of her nervous finger work.

"Emma," he said, breathing out her name as though she might disappear in front of him or run if he said it too forcefully.

"I couldn't sleep," she said, her arms crossed in front of her chest. He looked down to see the loose sneakers on her feet and the white socks shining. It was clear that the one ankle was swollen and injured. A bruise had already darkened on one side of her face, purple and green against her white skin. "I…I thought…"

"Come in," he said, waving his arm as he pulled back the door to allow her entrance. She limped forward, her eyes down and shoulders forward as her hair tumbled closer to her face. "Let's get you off that ankle."

"You're mad," she said as she sat in the corner of the couch. Her muscles jumped under his touch as he lifted the injured appendage to an oversized pillow. "I guess I'm supposed to apologize."

He looked at her curiously, as though he did not fully understand why she would say that. "I'm not mad at you, love," he said quietly, gently stroking the curve of her ankle before retreating to get ice. As he emerged, he found her biting her lip and watching his movements carefully. "I'm honestly a bit perturbed with myself right now. I didn't mean for it to appear to be an issue with you."

She let out a short breath, swallowing hard as he placed the ice on her and gave her a gentle smile. "You just…I don't know…seemed different."

Sitting down on the couch next to her feet, he leaned his head on his hand and rested his elbow on the cushions. "I suppose I'm trying to figure that out about myself as well. You see, I knew your job from the night we met. You're proud of those accomplishments and you have every right to be. I would be daft to commit a crime in this town with the knowledge that you would be after me."

There was a barely perceptible shake to her head as she narrowed her eyes to look at him. "My job?"

"Aye, I suppose I got an eyeful today and it threw me. You see, love, I feel quite protective of you. It's not meant to be a bad thing. I am protective of everyone and everything I care about, as I suppose most people are if they are good people." His free hand closed over the package of ice, causing him to almost gasp at the frigidity. "Is this too cold?"

"It's fine," she said, still processing his statement. "Would you explain, please? I don't think I understand."

"Well then, it is a bit hard for me to explain. You see I care for you, Emma, a great deal actually." He quieted for a moment, grappling for the words as he turned his eyes from her. He considered it easier to say without the golden green orbs looking back at him with growing questions. "And today, being with you and seeing you run into that building…well, it was a lot harder than I ever considered. I've seen you at work with your desk and your files. I've seen you stare at computer screens and print outs until you're cross eyed, but it was different today."

"Because there was an actual person involved. It made it more dangerous." She supplied the answer for him and he nodded.

"I saw you enter that building and I didn't know how it would turn out. I didn't know…I didn't know if I would see you again or get to tell you that I care for you. It seemed too abrupt. It seemed too harsh somehow. Then I heard that you were injured and…and I could see all these images of you in my mind. I know you are good at your job. You don't take extra risks. You didn't do anything wrong and still…"

"I still got hurt," she finished for him. "It was minor, but you're afraid that it could be worse next time." She had had similar conversations with Mary Margaret about this exact same thing. Even a conversation with Marian before she had passed away. There was a fear associated with a relationship with a law enforcement officer.

"Aye, it is hard to think that you have such a job that run to not away from danger. I don't like the idea of seeing you suffer because of some criminal's maleficence."

Her head tilted to the side. "Do you not trust me? Do you not trust that I will do the right thing?"

"Aye," he said. "The issue isn't trusting you. It's the fact that I must rely upon the common sense of a common criminal. Emma, I know you are strong and brave, but I'm not sure I'm built of the same fortitude. I don't know what I would do if something were to happen to you." He looked uncomfortable as he tried to catch her gaze again. "I know that it is too soon and fast for such confessions. You're probably going to get scared by this."

"I'm okay," she said, a nervous smile on her face. "You may have noticed I care about you too. And I'm sorry that I made you worry. I guess I don't even think about those things now."

His hand traveled to readjust the ice, silently assessing her tolerance. "Love, I told you. You were simply doing your job. Probably brilliantly as always. I suppose it was just a bit of a wake up for me. I will be fine with it. Just give me a little bit of time." She had leaned forward toward him, her body in an L-shape.

"You know," she said, gnawing at the corner of her mouth. "I am not really used to people worrying about me. It's kind of a new road for me. Maybe there's something I could do to make it easier for you. I could…" She grew quiet, not sure what really would make a difference. "Are you wanting me to quit my job?" She asked it hesitantly, clearly unsure of the reaction she should be having.

"No, love," he said reassuringly. "I know that you love your job. It is what you want to do. It's…it's me. I'm having a hard time deciding how this all works. You're not responsible for that. You're not responsible for how I feel about my fears."

She remained quiet, her thick lashes blinking a few times. "Aren't I?" she asked after a few moments had passed. He raised an eyebrow in question to her. "Aren't I responsible for making you happy? If what I do bothers you so much, we have to find a solution. I don't know what that is, but there must be something." She reached out one of her arms, wiggling her fingers until he joined his free hand with hers. "Maybe I could be more open with you about things like that. Maybe call and tell you I'm okay. I could text you and say I made it home or back to the station or whatever."

"You would do that?" he asked, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. "I thought you might protest that your independence would be compromised if I asked such a thing."

Considering that for a moment, Emma squeezed his hand back. "I'm not that good at these things. Remember we've established that already. But if a phone call or a text makes you more comfortable, how can I say no to that? You have said that you care about me enough to worry about me and my safety. I care about you too, Killian, enough to do what I can to make things easier on you." Her lips thinned a bit as she squeezed her mouth shut. "I don't know if I could quit my job, but a phone call or a text…seems easier to handle for someone I care for."

"I wouldn't ask you to do that," he said, his eyes blown open with the suggestion. "I'm not a complete Neanderthal."

"You're not one at all," she said softly. "It may be new for me or a little strange, but I kind of like that you worry about me. Not about this kind of thing, but the other stuff. You worry that I haven't had lunch or that I won't be able to find where you left my blanket in the morning. You worry about my car and if I am wearing a warm enough coat. It's…sweet."

Sitting up straighter, he lifted her legs into his lap, pulling her closer to him. She was giggling a bit as he did, including at his loud gasp as the bag of ice hit him in his leg. "I'm sorry," he said, tilting her chin so that he might kiss her with the apology. "I should have just told you that I was having concerns rather than holing up in here and sulking. I made you think you had done something wrong and that could not be less true."

She looped her arms around his shoulder and neck so that she could pull herself closer to him. "I'm glad you told me," she said. "I'm glad you're not so perfect after all."

***AAA***

Emma tried her best to cover the bruise to the side of her face and head with makeup, but the darkened area still remained pretty obvious. She could feel Elsa staring at it as she drove them out to meet with the state police. "Don't get your hopes up," Emma said, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel in the straightaways. "They didn't say what they found, but I don't hold out a lot of hope. They've been searching freight records and not actual ships."

"We've got to be getting closer," Elsa said, her own hands twisting and untwisting a bit of her hair. "They wouldn't call us down here to chat about a number being out of place. It has to be something."

The woman was usually dressed impeccably in tailored suits and designer shoes. That morning she was wearing jeans – designer of course – and a thick black cowl neck sweater that set off her fair hair and complexion. Emma had been the one to suggest something simpler given their location. She knew that the fishing and boating community would be more likely to talk to someone less intimidating and authoritative. Her own jeans were complimented with a flannel shirt and a worn leather jacket.

"We're making strides," Emma admitted. "Hans still isn't saying much, but Robin thinks he was able to track a money exchange between Edward and Hans. That's big. If we can get that confirmed, we can bring Hans back in under a court order. Then it's just a matter of breaking him."

"Just," Elsa scoffed. "I just wish we could find my sister and Kris. Everything else can fall into place. But she's back home and we're planning their wedding, I'm not going to feel like any of this progress is enough."

"Neither am I," Emma admitted, turning the wheels of her car sharply. While Emma and Elsa had both dressed to blend in with the local workers, the state police were much more conspicuous in the suits. As she pulled into an empty parking spot, Emma almost shielded her eyes from the shiny suit of the one officer standing outside trying to sneak a cigarette in the frigid air. He snarled at them as they emerged from the car. Since she had never met him before and never insulted as far as she knew, Emma could only assume that he somehow blamed the two of them for the weather and his struggle to light a cigarette in the wind.

Emma only gave him a cursory nod as the two women entered the warehouse structure and headed up the steep staircase to where the officers had set up a command center. Emma gave the younger woman to her left her badge number and waited for him to find the incident command officer.

The man, an older gentleman with silver around his temples, greeted them with a terse salutation and a motion toward the back of the room. He spared no time with them, explaining that there was another lead and that he and a team were preparing to set out after it.

"Where exactly?" Emma asked, feeling the excitement radiating off of Elsa. "Where do you think they are?"

Pulling a simple ink pen out of his breast pocket, the made a circle around an island and stretch of water just outside the Storybrooke Sound. "This general area is where we'd like to focus our search today," he said, pulling out a pair of dollar store readers. They sat crookedly on his nose. "We've heard a few confirmations of sightings matching the boat of Mr. Teach. That and a few other oddities tell me that this might just be the general vicinity."

Emma asked a few more questions, Elsa only piping in to ask if he thought her sister was still alive. She sighed audibly when he gave the noncommittal answer that he saw no reason to believe otherwise. Emma followed up with instructions that she Elsa would be joining the crew on the way to the island. "I insist," she said, eyes narrowed as he began to sputter a protest. "Nonnegotiable."

Elsa looked appreciative and mentioned as much when they were sent to procure life vests for the boat. "I'm used to people calling me bossy," Elsa admitted. "I've always been the one in charge."

Patting the weapon on her shoulder holster, Emma smiled. "The weapon helps add to the confidence a little." Elsa held the two life vests in her hands, watching from a distance as the teams loaded up supplies and began to call to each other with last minute instructions. From the corner of her eye she could make out Emma texting.

 **Emma: All's good here. About to head out with a search team. Talk soon?**

 **Killian: Of course. I'll count the minutes.**

A slow blush crawled up over Emma's cheeks. She was perfectly aware that the text was for her eyes only, but sometimes his sweet words became too much. He was even sweeter with his words now that they had experienced the trouble over job and his worries. She hoped that he would return to normal soon. As much as she didn't want to say the words aloud, she was seeing a future with this man and the thoughts scared her less every day.

She heard her phone chime and could feel the tug at her lips when she thought that it was Killian again. She was becoming one of those women, but it seemed okay. She wasn't as uncomfortable as she sometimes felt. She even had caught herself using the word love in her thoughts, but had not managed to say it aloud yet.

She lifted the phone back into her sight.

Neal: Since yesterday's plans were put off how about lunch today?

Swallowing her groan, she typed back that maybe it would be better later that afternoon, as she was in the midst of something important. Putting him off felt bad, even worse knowing the news she had to give him. She only hoped that she could help reunite Anna and Elsa before she had to deal with the father son issues in her life.

 ** _Thoughts?_**


	21. Chapter 21

**_This was a tough chapter to write, but I hope that it conveys what I want it to convey. I promise some good fluff in the next chapter. It should be up later in the week after my new internet is turned on and installed._**

 ** _Hope you all enjoy your weekend! Happy reading!_**

Wind off the water always made for a colder breeze than any place else. So with their life vests on and coats secure, Emma and Elsa huddled together as the boat cut through the choppy water on the way to the island. It occurred to Emma that she and Killian had not managed their sailing trip yet, as the weather had turned too cold. He told her that it would wait until spring, which had not set in yet. He was talking about them still together a few months from right then. She barely tried to make plans for the weekend and he was confident about something with a different year and month in the date.

"So how does this work?" Elsa asked, her blonde hair almost white over the down jacket that one of the officers had loaned her. She had refused at first, but relented when he told her there was no choice. "We float around looking for…clues?"

Emma was even more bundled up in her coat and scarf, a knit hat pulled down to her ears and gloves on her hands. "Something like that," she said, her voice muffled by the fabric. "First we look for things and signs that things are out of place." Her eyes scanned the horizon as the wind picked up. "For example, the boats over there." She nodded her forehead toward the small dock area. "We'll ask locals if any of those boats aren't usually there. They have already been looking at logs."

"Deputy Swan?" one of the officers called out. Emma went to him, her blonde hair barely visible under the layers. She returned a few moments later. "They have a report that the boat is on the other side of the island. We're going there first."

Elsa nodded faintly. "We could find them there?" She hugged her arms the best she could around herself. The bulkiness of the life jacket and the borrowed coat proving to make that difficult. "I could have my sister back soon."

"I hope so," Emma said, squinting as the sun shone off the water. "Are you cold? I could see if they have a blanket…"

"No," Elsa said. "I don't get cold."

"I'm afraid I don't have that trait," Emma mumbled.

***AAA***

Killian thanked Leroy again for allowing him to show the older man and his friends the new engine. Not sure that he had made the sale, he was at least content to be back to his normal work duties rather than investigations, hospital interludes, and sleeplessness. It was still another 30 minute drive back to the warehouse where he would be able to check on the status of a pending order. Taking that and the cold into account, he ducked into Granny's for a little coffee.

It was an odd hour between breakfast and lunch, leaving few customers at the diner and most of the staff on a break as Killian took a seat at the counter and waved off the attempts of the proprietress to hand him a menu. "Just a coffee, milady," he said with a mocking gallant tone that made Granny roll her eyes at his attempt.

"You know ticking her off doesn't get your order hear any sooner," a familiar voice said. He spun on the stool to find the source of it, his eyes crinkling with recognition at the sight of Mary Margaret standing at the counter with almost a dozen post-it notes in her hands. She was placing them on the counter and shifting them about as if organizing them.

"Aye, she probably slows the urgency of my order with my teasing," Killian agreed. "Thankfully it is warm and somewhat hospitable in this place, which is more than I can say for the outside." He watched her nod with a faint smile. "What are you doing here, lass? I thought you were busy shaping the young minds of this town."

"Planning period," she said vaguely as though that would explain it. Then leaning forward, her short dark hair falling toward her eyes. "It's chicken ala king day in the lunchroom. No one but the students can stomach that crap so we made a group order for Granny. It's my turn to play delivery girl." The teacher's cheeks were still tinged with red from the wind, standing out against her porcelain complexion. She was dressed in an emerald color that complimented her dark hair and dark lashes.

"Probably a wise choice in terms of food," he said with a smirk. "I can't say that I have fond memories of school lunch room fare."

Lifting a pink post-it closer to her face, the woman frowned. "I can't say it has gotten better since I was in school myself." She thrust the note closer to Killian. "This teacher has handwriting like a serial killer. Any idea what she wants?"

His eyes almost crossed staring at the scribbled order. "M-E-T," he began to spell. "O-F. Meatloaf?"

She snapped her hand back to confirm his assessment, nodding with relief. "Thanks," she said. "I wish these people would just email their orders." She jotted down that order on her pad with the rest and handed them to Granny with a sweet smile that was rewarded with a promise that they would be ready in a moment. The teacher gave Killian a smile to say that he should have been nicer to the woman. "I didn't get a chance to check on Emma last night. Is she doing okay?"

"Aye, a little pain and swelling, but she's out with that Elsa lass tracking down another clue of some sort." He frowned a bit. "She is undeterred."

"That's a good trait for that kind of job," Mary Margaret noted. "When David's in the zone, it's like I don't exist. You'll see. It can be a good thing. I never get so much done as when he's up to his eyeballs in some case." She restacked the post-its. "How are you doing? I know it can be scary when something like that happens?"

His own cheeks became a bit red. "I'm happy she is well on the mend," he said, not really answering the question. "She's proven to me again that she quite tough." He didn't mention the small bandage and noticeable limp that she kept telling him wouldn't slow her down. He tried not to think about how he had gripped her a second or two longer than necessary when they had parted that morning.

"It's hard," Mary Margaret answered, as if he had said those words aloud. "When David leaves to tackle some case or when I hear on the news that the sheriff's department is at the scene of some criminal's house or whatever, I still feel myself freaking out. We're taught to get out of the way of danger and these crazy loons we're in love with run right for it. Who does that?"

He waited for her to acknowledge what she just said about love, but she didn't seem to notice. "It's their job," he said finally. "Their job is protecting people and sometimes that means…"

"I know," she said consolingly. "But I wouldn't mind someone protecting my David. It seems unfair sometimes. Everyone else gets to call 911 when they have an emergency. David and Emma and the others don't. They have to respond when a sane person wouldn't dare do it. I understand how tough that must be for you. When David and I first were together, I thought I'd never make it. I was scared every day – waiting on that phone call. Waiting to hear what went wrong. It's not a good way to live. You think that you're wrong for feeling it. You feel like an idiot for letting it get to you."

"Aye," he said slowly. "It does seem that way. I'm trying to just ignore that and be proud of her for what she does."

"It doesn't work, does it?" She gave him a little smirk. "Or maybe I should phrase that like Ruby would say, 'how's that working out for you?"

"Well since I'm on my third cup of coffee since breakfast and I have checked my cell phone 50 times in an hour, I'm thinking it isn't the best plan I've ever had." He laughed nervously.

"I don't know that there is a magic formula. I still get scared, terrified even. But I try to remind myself that they're really good at their jobs. They work hard and…I have to trust that they won't take any unnecessary risks. They can take care of each other. I know they do that. David wouldn't let anything happen to Emma. And she would walk on fire to take care of him." She tilted her left wrist to look at the delicate silver watch there. "Just trust her. She may be tough as nails and obstinate as a bull, but she cares about you. She's going to do everything she can to come back to you at the end of the day."

He wasn't sure that he could fully believe and understand that, but it helped to hear the words. "Thank you, lass," he said solemnly. "I appreciate the advice."

***AAA***

Emma's legs burned with the searing pressure of her crouched position. She was desperate to stretch or walk out the knots in her thighs and calves, but that was not yet possible. The sun was shining in through the dirty windows of the warehouse, heating the back of her neck despite the coldness outside.

"Do you recognize him?" the office next to her hissed. His copper colored hair was sticking out at odd angles from under a ball cap and his hands rested on his gun and his radio respectively. She wasn't sure how he managed to seem so relaxed and balanced despite the fact that he was crouched with no hands available to hold him steady.

"He looks like our suspect's brother," Emma said, keeping her voice low despite the distance and the glass window separating them from the warehouse floor. They had taken position in the manager's office, crouched low and watching this man pace on the floor below them with another man posed as a possible client. She could tell by the frustrated grunt of the other man that her answer was not good enough.

Only Elsa could probably provide a more definitive identification, but the woman was not law enforcement and they were not going to bring her for such a task. Instead, Emma knew that Elsa was currently walking the beach under the watchful eye of one of the older detectives. Her hand was probably fiddling with the snowflake charm necklace that she had said was found among their mother's things. Emma could remember seeing it for the first time and feeling vaguely nostalgic and a bit jealous that she had no such family heirlooms. "I'd give them all back if it meant my parents were back with us," Elsa had said sadly when Emma had mentioned it to her.

"I'm afraid I haven't got those kinds of items to bargain with," Emma had retorted.

Emma shook off the ill-placed memory and looked back through the glass. It was important to stay aware, not let anything surprise her. The palms of her hand had begun to sweat, her mouth dry and eyes watery from the long stint. She could see the supposed client enticing the man, drawing him out as best he could. It all looked so normal, so tame. She almost yawned at the mundane nature of it, recalling that the night before had not been too restful. Perhaps that was why when the shout and then a gun shot rang out that Emma jumped in a startled fashion.

***AAA***

David paced the small space between the couch and the fireplace, his hands resting lightly on his hips and his jacket flapping open as he moved. His fiancé would be home at any moment, having promised that she had no activities to supervise after school and no committee meetings to chair.

"I have a bad feeling about this," she said as she ducked into the apartment and removed her scarf. Standing on her toes, she gave him a chaste kiss that did not even improve his disposition. She frowned and began to remove the other layers of winter protection. "Go ahead and tell me. I know you have something to say."

"My father," he let out bitterly. She didn't look surprised by the two words.

"What did he do now?" she asked, tugging off her boots and lining them up under the hooks where she hung coats in the doorway. "Let me guess. He's angry about the wedding. He wants it to be a big social event and sell tickets. You explained that we wanted something smaller and simpler."

David's face softened, imagining her in her white wedding gown with the soft music swelling around them. "I haven't even managed to fight with him on that topic yet." He stared at the mismatched but complementary furniture, a classic style that was all Mary Margaret. Embroidered pillows and knitted throws covered the furniture. Pastels and antiqued metals were on display. While not cluttered, the space boasted collectibles and antiques from all over. Each one was carefully selected and cared for by his fiancé.

"Then what?"

He realized he had been silent too long from the sympathetic and yet frustrated sigh. "I realized the other day that my father is the one who released the information about Emma to the press. He's trying to…well, I don't know…hurt her to help me."

Mary Margaret had been flipping through the mail. His words made her stop. "What do you mean?"

"My father thought I might have stolen the money from the budget," he said, his voice shaking as the words left his head and hit the air for the first time. "I think he thought that Emma was an easy one to pin it on so he did. He made it look like Emma was responsible or that at least she could be. That way the focus was off me."

She muttered an unflattering term under her breath. "Your father needs to be stopped," Mary Margaret declared. She sank back into her heels for a moment, eyes narrow and her arms over her sweater clad chest. "What else?"

"Isn't that enough?" He sputtered that question, but his heart sank with the gravity of it.

"I haven't ever known your father to try one thing and then give up when it didn't work." Mary Margaret could only be described as an optimist. She was loyal to her friends, helpful, loving, smart, and beautiful. She saw the best in everyone, but even she knew that David's father had few redeeming qualities. "What about the whole mess with you, Killian, and Regina? The deal over the boats?"

Shifting his weight from one foot to another, David sighed. "I have thought about that. He clearly has been using Sidney to carry out his plans."

Mary Margaret nodded as she took quick steps to close the gap between them. She ran a hand over his cheek as a comforting gesture, the other hand seeking his. "And what plan is that? Why do this?"

There was a slight dip of David's head as he considered his answer, shame becoming evident on his face. "He wants to help me win this stupid election. If he could frame Graham, he would. And he did his best to make him look bad with the whole thing of Emma leaving his room at Granny's. But my father is desperate. He doesn't want me to lose because I'm inept or unwilling to fight dirty. So he's doing it for me." David drew in his breath. "I'm afraid…"

"Emma's just a casualty to him. Killian and Regina too?" She tugged him a bit closer, not surprised that he didn't embrace her. Most of the moments they shared were about both of them, but this was about him. She could see the realization on his face, the acceptance that his father was such a man. There was a difference in the head knowing and the heart knowing.

David agreed as much, his eyes and hardening stare telling of his similarity to Emma in that she could remove all emotion from an equation. "And I…"

"You what?" the teacher prodded, lacing their fingers. "What are you thinking?"

"This case with Anna and Kris," he blurted out. "My father has been so adamant that I play a bigger role in it. I thought it was just a publicity thing for him, but what if…what if it's not. What if he set it up so that I could be…"

Mary Margaret felt the blood in her veins run cold. "If you were the one to find them and bring them home, you'd be guaranteed the win. Did he honestly think that Graham was going to win against you?"

David chuckled, not lightly but with a dread in his breath. "The numbers mean very little to my father. I have to win and win big for his satisfaction. God forbid it be an honest fight."

"But kidnapping a woman and her fiancé," the dark hair woman said, shaking her head in disbelief. "That's so dramatic. Why would he? How would he? Your father is diabolical, but he's not a person who does hard labor. Who could he have gotten to help him? Who would he trust?"

***AAA***

Emma hurdled down the stairs with her gun in her hand. There was no reason to believe there was anyone else planning to shoot, but Emma was ready. Her arms were slightly bent, giving her the field of vision that her trainers had always warned her about during training exercises. Growing closer to the man they had been watching, she saw the family resemblance to Hans was even more evident. That same light hair, smattering of freckles and cocky grin were evident. Two of the officers had subdued him and others were rushing to the aid of the officer who had been posing undercover.

"Mr. Westerguard," Emma said formally. She could see his confusion over her knowing his name becoming a fire in his eyes. "Where are Anna and Kristoff?"

The officers restraining and searching him glared at her for asking without preamble. They had not even read him his rights and such a breech was not in the best interest of any of them. He scoffed at the blonde, turning his attention to the man with the handcuffs.

"Tell me," she ordered, ignoring the pointed looks. She knew he had just shot at an officer, missing him thankfully. The officer had fallen in his attempt to duck and struck his head on a pallet. To her mind there wasn't time to waste. "Where are they?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Emma rolled her eyes, her mind reeling at his uncooperative answer. She knew that criminals rarely cooperated. It was not in their nature or best interest. Still it surprised her with how he sat there so smugly as they arrested him. She was about to change her tactic again when she heard a shout from the other direction.

A large stack of crates filled one end of the warehouse. Stacked so high that Emma was sure there might be clouds around the top ones. Each was large enough for a man to stand in and move about. She stared curiously as three officers huddled up to one. She ran to join them, leaving others behind. "What is it?" she asked, returning her gun to its holster.

"There's a noise in this one," the portly officer said. "Sounds like whimpering." The men made no moves toward it but all nodded at the one guy's assessment.

Emma wanted to scream for them to open it, but she held back as they beckoned one of the workers over with a crowbar. He made quick work of it, prying back the splintering wood. Emma held her breath, considering finding Elsa, but knowing that it was not a good idea under the circumstances. There were a lot of possibilities, not all pleasant. Finally the wood broke away, the staleness of the air replacing the sea scent.

There inside the crate stood two people. Emma blinked at their own shocked and somewhat scared expressions. The man stood as a shield between the crowd and the young woman, her eyes peering over his shoulder with a confused and hopeful gaze.

"Anna?" Emma asked, her voice quiet. "Kristoff?"

The two nodded slowly, seeking her out in the sea of men watching them. Emma attempted to offer them a welcoming and consoling smile, but she knew that she probably looked like an idiot to them. But then again, Anna was rounding Kristoff's shoulder and stepping toward Emma. She threw her arms open and pulled the blonde deputy into a hug. "I don't know you," she said with a hoarse laugh, "but I guess you know who I am."

Emma nodded emphatically. "Your sister is going to be so happy," she said.

The petite younger woman pulled back, bracing her hands on each of Emma's shoulders. "Elsa's here," she said breathlessly. "Of course she's here. She wouldn't send strangers to rescue us while she sat at home. Is she mad? Am I forgiven for leaving the party early? I shouldn't have. We wouldn't have been kidnapped by Hans and his brothers if we'd just…"

Kristoff's voice sounded more reasonable, but he shot an amused look to his fiancé. "Let the woman breathe," he softly admonished. "You don't know how glad I am…how glad we both are…that you guys found us."

Emma was disentangled from Anna and backed away as the two were descended upon by officers with questions about how long they had been there and the conditions of their survival. Acknowledging the pleading look from Anna, the female deputy darted outside to the path where she had left Elsa with strict instructions. The blonde woman was there, running a bit of the sand through her long fingers and staring out at the water.

"Elsa," Emma said, struggling to catch her breath in the wind and as her legs sunk into the sand. "Anna and Kristoff – they're…"

Elsa's hopeful expression fell again when Emma coughed instead of finished the sentence. "They aren't here, are they?" She sounded broken and desperate, her eyes blinking rapidly whether from the wind and sand or from the tears that were about to fall.

"No," Emma gasped. "They're in there. They seem fine. The police are talking to them. They are going to get checked out at the hospital. They're fine."

Emma didn't manage to say another word as Elsa scampered up the path. Her feet moved so fast that she did not even sink into the deep sand. She knew that Elsa would be reunited with the couple soon, which seemed something better done away from prying eyes rather than with her watching. So she hung back. Despite the cold and bitterness of the day, she pulled out her phone and dialed the familiar number.

"I was hoping to get a text from you, but to hear your voice is even better," Killian said, his own reply coming out in little spurts as though he might have been in the midst of something physical. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," Emma said, turning her back to the force of the wind. "We found Anna and Kris so I'll be back soon."

"Well done, love," he boasted. "And you took the time to call me. I feel honored."

She paused, thinking about the conversation that they had just finished hours before. "I promised I'd keep in touch," she reminded him. "Can't go back on my promise this early." She decided not to tell him about the desperate situation or guns fired. She'd break that to him in person rather than over the phone. Best to let him know she was not only okay but victorious and ready to see him. "I am supposed to meet Neal in a little bit. I'm going to wrap up here and then hightail it back to Storybrooke."

"Are you sure you still want to have that meeting alone?" he asked. "I could attend with you. I don't even have to join you. I could just sit nearby in case you needed me."

It was on the tip of her tongue to say no to him, to tell him it wasn't necessary. But she didn't. She smiled at his eagerness to help her, even if on the sidelines, and let the genuineness of the offer sink over her. "Maybe that would be a good idea," she said. "I think I could use an ally."

***AAA***

Emma was still wearing her warmest clothes when she arrived at the diner, her blonde hair a bit tangled and her cheeks red from the gusts against it. Killian, as he had promised, was at her side, his hand laced with hers as they scouted the room for a sign that Neal was there already. He wasn't.

"Perhaps a table," Killian suggested, pointing to an empty one in the back corner of the room. "We will wait for him there." She had not left his side since she had returned late that afternoon, sagging into him with relief and comfort as she held that dread in her stomach over the meeting with Neal.

They both pretended to look at the menu, occupying one bench and leaving the other open for Neal and his fiancé. Emma pointed out one of her favorite items, but continually jumped each time the door clanged open. His hand reached out to squeeze hers. "I hate this," she said with a combination of dread and exhaustion. "I would rather do anything than this."

He smiled sympathetically. "Any idea what you're going to say?"

She closed her eyes, her breath coming out in one long stream. "Other than, 'guess what you have a son?' I'm kind of at a loss."

His hand squeezed hers again. "Perhaps honesty and bluntness are not meant to go together, love. Might I suggest a bit more care in your word choice?"

"I wouldn't actually say it that way," she said as if he could honestly believe that she would. "But I really don't know the right thing to say. How do you…" Her question was lost to Neal and his bride to be entering and shaking off the light coating of sleet pellets that had landed on their coats. She paled as she watched them, cringing when Neal casually brushed a bit of the white ice off of Tamera's shoulders. He had done the same thing for her, his larger hand cleaning off the frozen mess and then pretending to torment her with his frozen hands. She was about to call him over, realizing that it was only making it worse to watch them. However, he spotted her and marched over, his arm looped over the woman's shoulders.

"Emma, this is my fiancé, Tamera," he said nodding in the blonde's general direction. "Tamera, this is Emma. We've known each other a few years."

She bit back the only reply she could think of that she knew he would have a hard time coming up with a label for their relationship that didn't include describing their parting and her time in jail due to his theft. Instead, she settled for a more acceptable answer. "Nice to meet you," she said, offering a quick introduction of Killian.

Neal settled into the seat across from Emma and placed his and Tamera's orders before looking to her expectantly. Palms upward, he gestured to her. "Care to explain this meeting, Ems? I didn't think you had anything to say to me."

The inside of her cheek hurt from having bitten into it. "I didn't really want to have this conversation," she began, her words feeling empty after practicing them in the car on the way back to Storybrooke. She had taken that drive alone with Elsa staying with her sister future brother-in-law at the hospital. "I'm just going to say it. You know that you and I were young when we knew each other. We weren't careful or thinking of anything really. We were pretty stupid." She frowned, managing to look up and catch what appeared to be an annoyed expression, as if he were insulted by her remembrance of their time together. "We were kids thinking we were adults and we did some stupid things."

Neal fidgeted a bit in his seat. "If this is about the watches, Ems, I'm sorry. I was stupid and the chance to walk away was too much for me. I know I treated you like crap, but I can't change it…" Tamera placed a hand to his bicep.

"Honey, I think she's getting to what she means. Let her finish." Tamera flashed a tentative smile. "He gets that way. Jumps the gun."

"I remember," Emma muttered. "I…When I was in jail I found out something," she continued. Her voice was coming out more even than she had thought and her eyes were not darting away from his curious stare. "I found out I was pregnant."

Neal's expression fell and then darkened in the matter of a few seconds. "Pregnant? With my baby? I have a baby?" He practically growled, though his voice went up an octave each time he said baby. "Is that what you're telling me, Emma? We have a baby?"

Killian's grip on her hand tightened much the same way Tamera's tightened on Neal's. The two exchanged a look before turning back to their respective partners. "A child," she corrected. "A son, named Henry."

He seemed to do some calculations, his mind obviously reeling. "I did background checks on you for the investigation," he muttered. "You aren't raising him."

Emma swallowed back the bile that was rising in her throat. "I placed him for adoption," she said softly. She wasn't sure that Neal heard her until his words bit back.

"You gave our son away to strangers," he said. "I have a son, but you let him be raised by strangers." He pulled the paper napkin from his lap, balling it up as he spoke. "Damn it, Emma. I have a son. You're just now telling me about this. Why? Why bother? Is this some sort of revenge for my moving on? Are you that petty?"

Emma blinked back the tears in her eyes, casting a glance at Killian. "No," she said, finding a strength she wasn't sure she had. "He lives here in Storybrooke. I just met him myself. I…I know his adoptive mother. She doesn't want…"

"I don't care what she wants," Neal spat. "My son is out there and you're acting like this is no big deal. You're acting like this was just some minor issue from our past. I knew you were warped, but this is just sick. You're sick. How can you wait more than 10 years to tell me that I have a son?" His voice was getting louder despite Tamera's attempts to soothe him.

"Bloody hell, man, she's trying to explain to you…"

Emma stopped Killian. "You abandoned me," she spat out. "You set me up and sent me to jail while I was carrying your child. I didn't have options, Neal. You disappeared. All you left me with was a freaking car. What do you think I could have done? I had a GED and not enough money to get home. How was I going to raise a baby?"

His nostrils flared. "I didn't know about the baby," he countered.

"No, you didn't. I didn't know until I was sitting in my cell staring at a pregnancy test. You were long gone by then." She waited a beat as he looked up from the mutilated napkin. "You were gone and I was alone. I made the best decision I could make. Our son is healthy and happy. He's smart and loved. And he's doing all of that without us."

Flailing a bit in his seat, he frowned deeper. "I would have…"

"No," Emma interrupted to correct him. "No you wouldn't have done anything differently. You wouldn't have gone to jail. You would have sent postcards or money? You would have let me put your name on the birth certificate? No, you would have found a way to run just like you did. It's all you know, Neal. It's all either of us know. I wasn't enough for you. You weren't enough for me. And we weren't enough for our son."

His breath was ragged, but he finally acknowledged Tamera's hand on his arm. "I want to see him," he said. "I want to meet my son."

Emma nodded. "His adoptive mother isn't very agreeable on that," she explained. "She didn't even want him to meet me."

"I have rights. I can meet my son if I want to meet him."

Emma reached into the bag on the seat beside her. "No," she said firmly. "Your rights were terminated due to abandonment. We are not his parents any longer."

 ** _So a lot happened in this chapter. I would love to have more than a dozen reviews, comments, and replies when I come back from the land of moving. Thanks everyone!_**


	22. Chapter 22

**_The wifi connection is pretty iffy, but I'm going to try to post this tonight. Thanks for all the encouragement and feedback on the story so far. Since we've had a little drama and angst, I went for a fluffy chapter this time. Enjoy!_**

 ** _P.S. I may be giving away my husband. He almost let the move happen without my cardboard cut out of Captain Hook. I think it is grounds for divorce._**

"Wham!" Ruby shouted over the crowd at the Rabbit Hole, her hand slapping the aged wood of the bar with emphatic emphasis. "I would have hit him so hard that he wouldn't have remembered his name." Her eyes blazed with anger, even more evident now that Emma and Killian had finished their description of Neal's reaction to the news of Henry.

"I've never seen Regina so worried," Emma admitted, her fingers rubbing over the raised pattern of the paper napkins. "Not so much about Neal, but Mr. Gold. Neal's not got an ounce of power, but Mr. Gold…that man runs owns the majority of the town and half the state. If he wants to fight to see his grandson…"

"That's assuming that Neal goes to his father," Mary Margaret pointed out. To demonstrate just how seriously the friends were taking the situation, even the teacher was drinking beer from the tap rather than ordering her usual drink. I don't think they get along well enough for that to happen."

David shook his head in disbelief. "If anything could bring those two back to together, it would be this. Gold's probably been waiting a decade for a something to offer his son. This might just be the ticket."

Emma made a sour expression with her face, slamming her bottle down with a little more force than she meant. "Great, I have potentially reunited Neal with his father. That wasn't exactly my plan here, guys."

Neal had not become any easier to talk to about Henry, despite Emma's attempts to remain positive over the situation. The man was bound and determined that he should have some rights to the little boy. Killian and Emma had long sense lost patience and finally told Neal that Emma would talk with the boy's adoptive mother about the situation. Promising nothing, Emma and Killian had met Ruby, David, and Mary Margaret for a few drinks to debrief and offer a toast to Emma's involvement in returning Anna and Kris from the kidnapping.

"This isn't your fault," Mary Margaret reminded her. "You were a kid yourself. You couldn't have…"

"Neal wasn't around for you to tell," Ruby interrupted. While usually easygoing and friendly, Ruby had a fiery temper when one of her friends was threatened. That side of her was on full display when she had seen Emma frazzled by the meeting with Neal. She had to be talked down from planning the man's murder, which Killian noted was bad form in front of a sheriff and deputy. "What did he expect you to do? Go on America's Most Wanted? Rent some billboards? You were trying to survive and he got away free and clear. It really pisses me off…" The raven haired beauty was ignoring the appreciative glances coming her way. Her pants were so right that they appeared to be a second skin on her and the lacy overlay top dipped down provocatively to reveal a wolf tattoo just at the juncture of the small of her back. Several men had already sent her drinks to garner her attention. She had sent most of them back with a roll of her eyes.

"Is Regina considering letting Neal meet Henry?" David said, cutting off the latest tirade. "I know she's not exactly thrilled about the turn of events, but maybe if Neal saw Henry then he'd calm down a little." Emma wasn't surprised that David would want to believe the best in Neal. The two had been the best of friends growing up and practically inseparable. The man's betrayal of David's friendship by setting up Emma and disappearing had hit the sheriff hard.

"I doubt it," Emma admitted, her head dropping to Killian's shoulder for a moment as though the closeness gave her a bit of strength. "The only reason I'm allowed in his life is because he freaking ran away to meet me. I can practically guarantee that Regina will make sure I'm out of it the first chance she gets."

The group of friends nodded in agreement, each taking a sip of their beers like a mocking toast to the fact. "Regina's not good at sharing," Mary Margaret noted, knowing the mayor better than any of them. "I don't think co-parenting would be a good alternative either."

Emma insisted that she wasn't seeking a chance to co-parent. She was confident and knew that her decision to place Henry had been the best under the circumstances. Despite the adoptive mother's fear that Emma would somehow decide she wanted to be a large part of Henry's life, she had no intention of superseding that authority.

"I thought you were brilliant," Killian told her when Mary Margaret went to the ladies room and David managed to convince Ruby to challenge him to a game of pool. "You were confident and told Neal exactly what needed to be said. I'm quite proud of you."

"Even if I didn't manage to put him off this," Emma said, her head lowering again to his shoulder. She was admittedly not much for public displays of affection, but she found herself seeking out his touch. Whether it was a quick hug or a caress of the hand, she did not think too much about those things until someone pointed it out to her.

"I don't think there was any other outcome. He has no right to, but Neal feels betrayed. He lashed out because of that. It was unfair to you, but you handled it much better than I could have ever. I'm impressed with you, love. I would have been much more inclined to be like Ruby in this situation." He rested his cheek against the top of her head for a moment until he could see that both Ruby and David were watching with amused expressions. Deciding it was probably best not to encourage their teasing of Emma, he moved away slightly.

"I guess," Emma said sadly. "I just wish that he could understand what I did and why. It was never about him or to punish him. I was trying to do the best I could for Henry." She stifled a yawn. "I guess I'm a little tired."

"You've had quite a day," Killian noted. "What with the missing person's case and your confrontation with Neal. I'd say that the lass is in good need of a night of rest and pampering."

"Pampering?" she asked, a smile tugging at her lips at his roguish eyebrow waggle. "What do you have in mind, Mr. Jones?" She loved that playful banter that they so often shared these days, the colorful teasing and more loving glances that smoothed so many of the frayed edges.

He chuckled lowly. "I was thinking perhaps I could draw you a bath and make sure your muscles are nice and loose. Maybe we could sample a bit of that wine that I have been saving for special occasion. A fire in the fireplace, a bit of snuggling on the couch while I tell you how wonderful you are? Sound pleasant?"

"Sounds like heaven," Emma admitted, startling herself with how easy it seemed to imagine. The two of them shared a quick and chaste kiss before heading over to say good night to the three other friends.

"Why don't you take tomorrow off?" David asked, winding his arm around his fiancé's waist. "I can handle things on the paperwork end of things. That way you're ready and fresh for the interviews with Anna and all."

It wasn't too far of a way back to Killian's where Emma found herself that evening. True to his word, he drew her a bath and placed a chilled glass of wine in her hand as she emerged pink from the heat of the water and wrinkly from the time spent beneath the bubbles.

"I'm not even going to ask why a man like you has bubble bath," Emma teased good naturedly. "I have a hard time picturing you in a tub with bubbles up to your chin."

His eyes danced, pushing back a bit of her damp hair with his hand, he nipped at her neck that he had exposed. "Perhaps I had that on hand with you in mind," he said in the same teasing voice she had used. "Any excuse to get you naked, love."

"And any excuse will do?" she asked, her eyes sparkling under the dark lashes.

"Aye," he agreed. "As a matter of fact, I'm disappointed you are so covered up right now."

She giggled as he tugged on the fabric belt of his robe she was wearing. "Killian, it's spitting snow outside and I'm freezing. You can't really expect me to be naked all the time."

"Bloody shame," he declared. "Though I don't wish for you to catch pneumonia or some other awful malady. That's why I built a nice fire for us."

Leading her over to the couch, he waved his arm to the set up of roaring fire and the few snacks he had provided. Nothing was overly extravagant, but there were crackers, grapes, olives, and a few other items. More wine was also at hand. From the look on his face, one would think that he had grown, crafted, invented, or fashioned each of the items himself.

Rising to her toes on her bare feet, she kissed him, tasting a combination of the wine and the beer that they had before. "Thank you for taking care of me," she murmured against his mouth. "You always seem to know just want to do. How do you do that?"

His smirk was half cockiness and half chagrin as he leaned his forehead toward hers. "I can't say there is some huge secret, love. I just try to think what would make you smile. Your smiles are quite addicting to me and I find myself willing to do anything necessary to earn one."

She brushed her lips to his again, pushing her hands against his chest lightly until he sat down on the sofa. Not waiting to be invited, she followed, her legs straddling him and lifting her into the higher position. "Your smile isn't so bad either," she teased. "I think I'm getting addicted to it too."

"Are you now?" His voice was barely a hoarse whisper. "Then I suppose we make quite a team. It is fortunate that we found each other."

She smiled down at him, not answering with words, but with a gentle caress of her hand against his cheek, the stubble tickling her palm. Lowering her mouth to his, she sucked his bottom lip between hers, nipping at it lightly with her teeth and laving at the indentations with her tongue. Her movements were slow and a bit lazy, as if she might continue for hours or stop at any moment. He groaned with appreciation for them. With one arm about her waist to hold her steady, the other hand pulled at the robe he had lent her, lowering it from her shoulders in not such a smooth movement. First one side dropped from her shoulder and then the other.

"So much for snuggling by the fire," admonished lightly.

His smirk against her skin as he tasted the exposed flesh told her he was not sorry that things tended to grow heated between them. "This is exactly what I had in mind," he replied huskily. "Nothing better than kissing and tasting you, my love."

They continued for a bit, kissing and running their mouths over each other at the languid pace that neither of them had fully intended to set. She nipped at his pulse, eliciting sounds from him that matched her own as his ministrations drew them out of her. The loudest was when her hand slipped between them and into the waist of his pants where she found his rigid length. The sound of his moan as her palm and fingers curled around it vibrated against her.

She pulled back slightly to watch is eyes darken and the lids create hoods that fell over them as pulled and massaged the sensitive flesh. His gasp was swallowed as he jerked forward to capture her mouth again once her thumb ran over the tip of him. Her name was falling off his tongue in a reverent sort of way, soft and prayerful.

Despite his desperate state at her touching him, he managed to open the robe she wore fully. Both his hands and mouth explored and appreciated the soft skin that pulled taut of her form. His fingers sought out her gentle folds, seeking to pleasure her even as he felt his own pleasure and need rising desperately.

Her hand settled into a steady rhythm in cadence with is hips and moans that create a staccato beat. When he was not kissing her, he was whispering some almost incoherent about her being a marvel, which made her inordinately happy for some reason she wasn't trying to understand.

"Emma," he said, making her name an innate portion of his moan. "Darling, I need you. I need to…"

She smiled wickedly, tugging a bit harder at him before returning her concentration to his removing his pants completely. While his words were more wanton, hers were tinged with requests for patience – a large request for a man as wanting as he was at that moment.

They did not manage to make it to the bedroom, their bodies seeking each other and their own completions there on the sofa. Firelight danced across their bodies as their limbs tangled and hearts raced with each movement. Again he appreciated her natural glow and exuberance as she climaxed around him, enthralled with her all over again.

***AAA***

Killian read through the email one more time, the laptop propped up on his legs as his sat in the chair in his bedroom with his feet on the hassock. With Emma sleeping only a few feet away, he had elected to work from home for a little while, enjoying the quietness that did not come from solitude but from the comfort of having her nearby. She was wrapped protectively in his blanket, her arms circling a pillow and her blonde hair falling across another one.

He had been loath to wake up and remove himself from the bed, preferring the idea of cradling her rather than the silver laptop he was holding. However, duty called and thankfully his job afforded him a bit of flexibility. Taking a long sip of coffee, he lowered the mug to the arm of the chair and typed out a few more details for the potential client.

"You're still here," Emma said, her voice a bit hoarse from sleep. Palm down on the rumpled sheets, she pushed herself up enough to view the clock on his bedside table. "Why did you let me sleep so late?" She pushed part of the hair back from her face and looked at him pointedly, blinking at the bright light coming in around the curtains he had not opened.

"Good morning," he said, placing the laptop and coffee out of harms way and crossing over to the bed. "You needed your rest and I was not about to wake you up when you looked so peaceful."

She pursed her lips together, looking at him thoughtfully. "You haven't been watching me sleep, have you? That's such a creepy, stalker thing to do."

He snickered, running a hand along the side of her face and covering his fingers in the blonde tresses. "I have not been watching you," he said. "I may have stolen a glance, cut a bit of your hair for DNA cloning purposes, and taken a few photographs that are now on my Facebook page, but I did not do anything creep of stalkerish."

She looked incredulous, blinking her eyes. "You have a Facebook page and haven't friend requested me? I think I'm insulted." Her mock annoyance only lasted a moment before pounced to dig his fingers into her ticklish flanks, dissolving into a pile of giggles and gasps before she screamed out her surrender.

"You give up way too easily," he announced, hovering over her with his head dipped toward her. "I hope that you are more persistent in your professional pursuits."

She reached upward to his partially buttoned shirt, tugging on it to pull him forward slightly. Her hands fisting on the soft flannel material. "I think it is the effect you have one me," she said with a pout. "I have had every intention of refusing you, but I can't quit coming back. When I first met you, you were just supposed to be a little entertainment for the evening. You were going to help me get Ruby off my back about setting me up on bad blind dates."

His smirk grew, lower lip trembling with unreleased laughter. "I think she fell for it," he mockingly pointed out. "We have done a passable job at appearing to be a dating couple." There was a quick wink before he let her pull him even closer.

"Just passable?" she asked. "I think we could go for the academy award at this point. I'm starting to believe it myself." Her legs hooked over the backs of his calves. "And everyone is still buying it."

He looked offended, lips parted and forehead crinkled with a sad downward turn. "I can assure you, Swan, what I feel for you is quite real."

Lifting one of her hands to his face, Emma's thumb traced of the faint scar on his cheek. "It feels real to me too."

***AAA***

Emma had expected the phone call from Regina to come at the crack of dawn, but the woman refrained until almost 11 a.m. Keeping with their lazy tradition of the day, both Emma and Killian were sitting at opposing ends of the sofa with their legs entwined under the blanket. Killian was attempting a bit more work as Emma read the front page story in the Daily Mirror about the rescue of Anna and Kristoff. Steaming mugs of hot chocolate were at their sides and the curtains opened to the start of a snowy landscape that appeared much more than the weather reports of just flurries.

Reaching for the phone a bit lazily, Emma's relaxed state faded with the recognition of the phone number on the screen. Still, she answered it with a gentle sigh of resignation and nodded reassuringly to Killian who was watching her over the screen of his computer. Emma tried to be succinct in her explanations of Neal's reaction, understanding Regina's hatred of small talk and unnecessary details.

"I would probably anticipate that he will make some effort to reach out to you," Emma said, after explaining that despite her refusal to actually name Regina, Neal was sure to figure it out. "You can decide how best to handle him. The lawyers I consulted have all said that everything was done legally and he is not within his rights to contact you or Henry."

"Great," the mayor said, sarcasm dripping from each syllable she uttered. "So when he kidnaps Henry we can just console ourselves with the knowledge that he wasn't within his rights. It's the same as people who don't look both ways when crossing the street in a crosswalk. Yes, if they get hit the driver is at fault, but that knowledge does nothing for the pain and suffering of being hit by a car."

"I only meant…"

"I know what you meant, Ms. Swan. And thank you for talking to that man. I can't believe that you did not think to tell me of the connection when I hired him for the investigation. Do you really think I would have brought him here to Storybrooke if I had known?"

Emma knew that her own ability to bury her head in the sand was not always a healthy one. She had done it too many times, hiding from the cold realities that might distract her from the task at hand. However, as was the case here, her habit had a tendency to put others at risk. "I'm sorry, Regina," Emma said finally. "I never imagined that he would come here and I certainly never thought that there would be a need to discuss anything with him. But I assure you. As angry as he is, he won't harm you or Henry. He's just blowing smoke right now."

The two women talked for a moment or two longer, Regina asking a few questions and Emma trying to answer them. Killian pretended to keep working, but Emma could tell that he was actually listening to her end of the conversation. His eyebrow arched at moments and he reached down to run his hand on her leg when it sounded as though she might be a bit upset over something that was said.

"I should go," Regina replied with a sigh. "I…Henry has an event at school. I'm sure that your friend has already told you about it. He's reciting a poem that he wrote for a class. I…I thought you might like to attend. It would mean a lot to him." Unlike her usual demeanor, Regina sounded almost frightened and shy at the concept. Emma could tell that the woman was reluctant but still made the effort.

"I think that would be great," Emma said softly. "I'll get the details from Mary Margaret."

"Yes, you do that."

Emma placed the phone back down smiling as Killian lifted his eyes in a badly acted display of surprise. "Did the phone call go well, love?" He was the picture of innocence with his blue eyes shining and the dark hair falling over the creases of his forehead.

She told him about the discussion regarding Neal, listening to his advice and offering her own thoughts on the subject. They chatted about that and other things for a few minutes, including deciding that to celebrate the first snow of the season that they should have some of her famous stew. She puttered and snooped around his kitchen in search of the ingredients, pushing him out when she explained that it was top secret and not for his eyes. "You can't know what's in it," she said firmly, clanging a pot onto the stove and chopping vegetables in large chunks.

"Sounds dangerous," he replied, fetching her a bottle of white wine that she requested.

Eyeing him over the steam that was already starting to rise from the pot of stew ingredients, she smiled. "Many of the best things in life are just that – dangerous."

***AAA***

The snow was not very deep on their walk back from the market and Emma's apartment, but Killian still tried to make a few snowballs that he wisely chose to throw at inanimate objects rather than her. He admitted that he still felt rather childlike in the fluffy whiteness.

"There's just something about it," he told her, lips turned up as he gazed toward the sky. Fat, wet flakes were falling again, speckling his normally black hair with bits of white. "SIt makes me want to build a snowman."

"Not enough snow or time for that," she surmised, shifting her bag on her back as they crossed over Sixth Street on their way to his apartment. "We have to get back to the stew."

He grumbled a bit, pulling her to him as they reached the sidewalk. His smile seemed brighter as he used his free hand to tug on the knit cap she wore. "Enough time for this?" he asked, sealing her mouth with a kiss. Her eyes fluttered shut as a lone snowflake landed on her eyelashes. She called him a sentimental dork, but there was a laughter to her words that echoed between the two of them as they watched some of the other residents enjoy the snow too.

***AAA***

Emma's long legs seemed to go on for miles from under the hem of the button down shirt she had borrowed from Killian despite having picked up a change of clothes. With a skeptical eye, she stared into the pot on the stove, stirring in even circles just as she had been taught by Granny during a brief stint at the diner. "It's missing something," she muttered more to herself than Killian, who was standing next to her and slathering herbed butter on bread to be toasted in the oven.

"I've got a few jarred herbs in that cabinet there," he said, pointing with his elbow. "Not quite the right season for the fresh stuff."

Reluctantly she left her position and began to rummage through the items he had. She was duly impressed that the man owned more than salt and pepper, as most men she knew rarely got more eccentric with the spice selection than say garlic powder. Plucking the dried thyme from the shelf, she shook a dash into the pot and covered it with a lid. "It's going to be ready in a few minutes," she promised him, nodding to his perfectly symmetrical bread slices. "Just enough time to pop those in the oven."

"I'm rather enjoying you like this," he said, shutting the oven door with his hip. "I could get used to it." She was leaned down in front of the open refrigerator and staring into its contents.

"What barefoot, half naked and cooking your dinner?" she asked. She turned to see his expression, which wasn't the confident bravado she usually saw from him. The tips of his ears were pink and his eyes darted away momentarily. She knew she had said the wrong thing, as Killian was nothing if not supportive and certainly an encouraging man.

"I just meant us working together, spending the day just the two of us," he said, waving his hand as if to brush away whatever anxiety he felt over her words. "I suppose that some would say it was boring, but I have been enjoying myself."

She could have made a quip about the fact that he enjoyed their activities in bed or on his sofa. She could have been her usual snarky and sarcastic self, as that was her biggest defense mechanism. Instead she mimicked his earlier move and closed the refrigerator with her hip. "I'm enjoying myself too," she said, her voice hitching a bit. I like spending time with you."

She was almost sure that it was relief in Killian's eyes as they mutually closed the distance between them. "I'm a lucky bloke," he said roughly, holding her hips against his. "I don't know what I did to deserve you, Emma, but I'm so grateful I did whatever that was."

Her eyes closed as she shook her head no. "Killian, I…"

"Don't," he said softly. "You don't even see how wonderful you are, love. You have no idea how brilliant, beautiful, and wonderful I find you. And I swear to you, my love, that I want to show you how special you are to me every day."

Her throat jumped as she swallowed hard, the words unbelievable and sweet at the same time. "I'm not perfect, Killian," she said, breathing his scent into her lungs. "I can't be."

"Nobody is perfect," he reminded her. "Not me, not you, not anyone. So don't think I am mistaking your brilliance for perfection." He cradled her face in his hands, thumbs dragging out across the warm skin. "I…I have been holding this back, fearing your reaction if I said anything. I don't wish to pressure you. If you want me to court and pursue you for years then I will gladly do it. But you must know that I see a future with you. I hope that you might feel the same."

There was barely a sound as she whispered his name. "Killian, I need more time," she said, voice wavering. "I…I don't know that I can say that. I don't know that I can mean it."

"I said too much," he sighed, leaning his head backwards. "I'm sorry. I read things wrong. I…"

"Killian," Emma said, the soft blue of his shirt she was wearing seeming to make her appear even more ethereal with the halo of blonde waves. "I don't say these words. I'm not superstitious, but I've never had much luck with them."

"I should not have pushed," he said, not letting go of her. "Forgive me?" He swayed a bit, the light of the kitchen glowing off his dark hair and the scent of the bread filling the air. His stomach rumbled a bit.

She blinked a few times and then nodded her head. "I think you just got all sentimental because of my stew," she told him. "If I made hot dogs, you would probably be less impressed with me."

"You could serve me cheese and crackers or Granny's lasagna and I'd still be in love with you, Emma Swan." He coughed, eyes widening as he heard his confession. "I didn't mean…bloody hell."

She laughed as his stomach rumbled again, followed by hers. "We could attribute it to hunger, but Killian…don't take it back. I may not be good at saying it and even pretty bad at hearing it, but the words are pretty nice."

 ** _Thoughts?_**


	23. Chapter 23

**_Thanks for being patient with me. We have gotten moved into our new house, which has a few quirks. The internet and cable have been installed. I'm trying to settle into my new job. So here's hoping I can update and post the last couple of chapters of this fic._**

 ** _Thanks for all your comments, reviews, and notes of encouragement. I love to get those and know that people are reading and enjoying this fic._**

When Emma was 15, Mary Margaret and Ruby had tried to convince her to go out for the cheerleading team with them both. For weeks they practiced heel stretches and tumbling. They worked out all the time, dripping with sweat and keeping smiles on their faces in case they ran into any of the veterans on the squad. Emma and Ruby both admitted they weren't exactly the right types for the team, but Ruby loved the idea of the uniforms and Emma thought it might be nice to just belong.

Just two days before the final tryouts Emma had sat with an ice pack on her knee when David had knocked on the door. His face been an ashen color, lips thinned by his worry and his hands digging into his hips as he rocked back and forth in front of her. He'd broken the news as gently as he could that the girls on the squad had planned to blackball Emma, as she did not belong to one of the finer families and did not have the same financial resources.

"Then I won't try out," Emma had said as if it did not bother her at all. "I wasn't that interested in it anyway." She shifted the ice pack as David sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Don't do that," he cautioned. "You may look like a fragile little flower, but you're one of the strongest people I know. You're so much better than those stupid and insipid little twits who can't be bothered to be original in their gossip." He pushed one of the throw pillows out of the way like it had personally offended him.

"David," she consoled gently, as though it was him who had been talked about and not her. "It is just cheerleading. It's not that big of a deal. And what do I care what they say?" He wasn't buying it, but she said it anyway. She'd cried in front of him before when they had awards day at school and were supposed to invite their parents. Ruth had attended for her, but the school had not bothered to recognize the woman.

"They don't know you, Emma," he said. "If they did, they would love and care about you as much as we do." David's eyes watered though he looked more angry than sad. His protectiveness of Emma was palpable even back then.

It was the same expression on his face when he asked Emma to come into his office that next morning, ignoring the pleas for his signature on a document or a moment of his time to discuss a challenge in a case. "Emma, please," he said, his voice soft as he walked past her desk toward the glass room that was his office. She got up from her seat and followed him, casting a glance at Robin who was chewing on the tip of his pen.

"Dramatic much?" she asked, kicking back in the chair where he indicated for her to sit. "I've already read the files. Looks like preliminary reports are good and that Hans won't have much of a defense."

He nodded, distracted from the idea of reports and the previous day's activities. He'd pretty much gone through the motions and been thankful that Emma had taken his advice for a day off. "You look rested," he commented, drumming the fingers of one hand on a closed notebook. "I guess a day off can be a good thing every now and then."

She nodded back at him. "You didn't bring me in here to discuss the merits of time off."

"I suppose you're right." Leaning back in the chair, he had a moment where he almost lost his balance, but quickly regained it. "I've been going over the interviews with Hans, his brother, and with Edward. They aren't very cooperative, but that's not a surprise. The thing is, Emma, that it appears they were not acting alone, nor were they just trying to assuage the broken heart of Hans."

Pushing a bit of blonde hair behind her ear, she chewed at her bottom lip. From experience she knew this was not his lecture on missing a vital clue. Something else was going on with the case. "Just tell me."

A few short breaths escaped his nose. "My father," he said as though the words hurt to say. "My father set this and everything else into motion. He wanted to make me look more competent and electable. He wanted me to find Anna and Kris – get the headlines and save the day. He wanted to take the heat off me over the missing money so he made you look guilty. When Regina's advisor messed up on the amount of the boat purchase, he tried to frame that on Killian so it looked like I had did not have anything to do with it."

Emma blinked, her eyes beginning to clear with the understanding of what he was saying. "He's been a busy man," she commented. "I'm sorry, David. I wish I could say I was surprised or shocked, but the truth is that we have both known your father isn't exactly Storybrooke's citizen of the year."

"No, he's not," David said with a groan. "I hate that he tried to hurt you. He had people kidnapped. For what? All for a job that that I don't even want. I could make more doing private security work or moving to a bigger town."

"But Mary Margaret's not there and her teaching job is here," Emma pointed out. Her friend had said on more than one occasion that she would never leave the town where she had grown up. There was a whole wide world she was willing to visit, but she always wanted to go home afterward. David had respected that and even said that he was more interested in establishing roots than creating a new life somewhere else. "You're happy here."

"I hate being manipulated," he said gruffly. "My father has…my father has taken whatever good I have done as sheriff and reduced it to nothing more than a ploy for whatever game he's playing. I feel like a fool and…I allowed people I care about to get hurt because I wasn't willing to see the problem."

Emma frowned, the lines on her forehead deepening with the effort. "We all want to believe people love us and want the best for us," she said, remembering something that both Mary Margaret and Killian had said to her. "Of course you wanted to believe in your father. There's nothing wrong with that. And he must have some good in him to have had a woman like Ruth love him even for a little while."

"I truly don't know what my mother saw in that man," David sputtered. "I'm sorry, Emma. I'm sorry that he tried to use you to make me look better in the eyes of voters. I'm ashamed of that as much as I'm ashamed of all the other crap that man has done."

Emma tugged at the sleeves of her cream colored sweater, pulling them over the palms of her hands. "David, it's not your fault." She didn't add that she was one of those people who expected others to betray her. David knew that. He knew that she lacked trust when it came to people. She assumed the worst, which made her distinctly distrustful. "Your father was misguided and criminally guilty, but he…"

David slammed his hands back down the desk. "Stop making excuses for him. You, me, and my mother did that all my life. We say he's so into winning that he loses sight of morality. We say that he's so determined that I be successful that he forgets other people deserve a chance too. We say that he didn't know how to be a good husband and father so it doesn't hurt so much when he's just a plain asshole. But he's gone too far. He kidnapped people. He tried to frame people and ruin their lives, careers, and reputations. It could have been…"

"David, you aren't responsible for your father," she stated. "You aren't his parent. Yes, what he did was horrible and I certainly hope you're planning to have him punished for it, but you aren't to blame." She knew that he was taking the betrayal far worse than he was letting on. He had lost all the rest of his family, both his mother and brother, but his father had remained. And with the hope that was a part of his every decision, he had tried to believe that his father loved him and cared for him as more than just another pawn in his game of chess.

"I'm going to talk to the state police about charges," he said softly, as though the words themselves might be too much for him to handle. "It could be a mess if those charges came through this department." He licked his lips in an attempt to ease the next words out. "You'll need to make a decision about his revealing your juvenile record. I have proof that it was him."

"You think…"

"It's up to you," he said. "I'm having a hard enough time with this without adding in all those things like what he did to you. Emma, I know that we both hate sounding cliché, but you're like my sister. I know my mother thought of you as her daughter. I…You have always said you felt like nobody wanted you, but you were and are wanted. Don't let what my father did make you think otherwise."

For Emma it would have been easy to have seen it that way, seen it as her failing. That voice that haunted her came back with the idea that she wasn't enough. She wasn't good enough. She wasn't rich enough. She wasn't pretty enough. Nobody ever thought she was. People tolerated her, but they didn't love her. Rationally, she knew it wasn't true, but the voice was hard to shut up. "When are you talking to them?" she asked.

"Today around four," he said, his eyes wider as he looked to see if his timing was sinking in with her.

"The debate?" She snapped her head up to look at him. "No, David, you can't…"

"Whatever gains I have made in the polls and with people, it's lost once my father's arrested. I may not have been fully aware of his intentions, but I will be blamed. Nobody will believe…" His words broke off as he ran a hand over his face. "Maybe Graham will give me a job when he becomes sheriff. There will be an opening for a deputy, after all."

"David," she said, just his name conveying her anger, frustration, and disappointment. "This isn't fair."

"He'll make a good sheriff," David said sternly. "Better than I can do with all this weighing down on me."

She seemed angry as he let out a nonplussed sigh. "You can't just quit. You're not a quitter."

David didn't say another word, gathering his coat off the hook in his office and dropping a kiss on top of her head before he headed toward the door. She knew he was serious about his intentions, but he wasn't about to say anything more just yet.

***AAA***

Mary Margaret knew of David's plans and nodded sympathetically when Emma asked her if she knew if David was serious about his decision. "He decided the other night," she said sadly. "You know his father has wanted this more than he ever has. He's not really big on this whole political career thing. Not like James, anyway. James was going to be governor someday, senator, maybe more. David is content behind the scenes."

"He's good at his job," Emma protested, stirring the hot chocolate she had ordered. It seemed like a perfect moment for comfort food. "Not that Graham isn't, but it's not the same. He's not David."

Mary Margaret appeared more resigned than Emma would have hoped. Her eyes were wet with unshed tears, but more than that there is a softness to her that appears to be empathy. "David and I talked about it a lot," she said softly. "He said even if he could win the election that he doesn't want to win this way. He doesn't want to win this way, not with his father's influence or what he's done hanging over everything." The teacher took a long sip of her tea that was in a flower painted mug in her right hand. "If you both go through with the charges, he'll be testifying in court and so will you. There will be publicity from that. It won't be easy for either of you."

Logically Emma knew that her friend was right, but she couldn't squelch the feeling that David was just giving up too easily. She also couldn't help but think that he was fighting again for her rather than thinking of himself and his future wife – something that makes her both sad and proud of him. "I hate this," Emma said sadly. "I hate that his father has this much power."

"Had," Mary Margaret corrected. "He had this much power, but he's not going to any longer."

David was optimistic, at least as much as someone in law enforcement could be, but his fiancé was even more so. She loved to see the brighter things in life. She loved to point them out and make everyone else see her way of thinking. When Emma worried, she never quite understood. It made them a great couple, Emma had surmised.

"Are you going to the debate?" Emma asked. David had made plans to announce his pulling out of the race before the start of it. While he had asked that Emma attend and support him, she had worried it might be too tough to watch.

Mary Margaret nodded before taking another long sip. "You know I have to go," she said. "We all do. It's what we do."

***AAA***

"I just think that a boat might make more sense," Tink said to Killian as she perched herself on the edge of the leather chair. "The orphanage is not in that great of an area. The land is war torn and militant groups are surrounding most sides. If our aide workers could have a sanctuary on some sort of boat, it might make things easier. They could move about and not risk the same things as a traditional camp."

The blonde was still a spitfire and more than a little stubborn with the way she ordered people around to do her bidding. Granted it was for unselfish reasons now, but Killian still found himself vaguely amused by her antics. "And when would you be needing this vessel?" he asked her, waiting for the inevitable impossible answer.

"End of the week," she answered as though she were ordering take out and not a boat that was going to have to be completely outfitted. "And if you know of a good captain familiar with the area, that would be awesome."

He wanted to laugh. "Anything else? Should I search for an enchanted ship for you? One that would fly?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "You always did believe in a bit of magic. No, I'm more practical than that. It's just that this orphanage is in quite a dangerous area. I want to ensure that the children and staff are safely rescued before anything else can happen." She pursed her lips together tightly. "I can't sleep at night until I know they are safe."

For as rich and successful as her parents were, Isabella Greene was a true philanthropist. She did much more than throw money behind the causes. She truly felt the plight of those she fought to save. "I'm going to see what I can do, but I cannot promise you anything. This is a tall order and one that might not be something I'm capable of at the moment."

The frown she wore was fleeting. "I know you can do it," she said. "And perhaps I can convince you that you should captain her? I know you're more than capable. It is nobler than this career." Most people who were thinking about purchasing such an expensive item would be dressed in dark business clothing, maybe a silk scarf or something like it to decorate the drab wardrobe. Not Tink though, she was outfitted in a short green dress with patterned tights and matching ballet flats. Her wild hair was pulled back by a ribbon and emeralds dangled from her ears.

"I'm happy here," he said without acknowledging her offer really. It was not something she had even asked, but he had felt the need to tell her.

"I'm glad, but I can't help but think you might find yourself more fulfilled…"

"I already am," he said, not blinking as he looked toward his computer screen and the database of inventory at his disposal. "I might have something you'd find appropriate for your needs. If you could get a list of supplies and equipment to Smee by tomorrow evening, I'm quite certain we can accommodate that part of your request." He typed in a few notes. "I don't know of a captain available on this short of notice though, but I doubt you'll have too much trouble finding one that meets your needs."

"I guess I can't change your mind," she said sourly. "I guess after the way things…"

Again he had the urge to laugh at the way she was unable to see the enormity of anything. The last time they had been together had been on a similar adventure to bring back a few orphans she had decided to rescue from Haiti. They had been dating only a few weeks when she had burst in and demanded that they go. Like most men, he had followed and been in awe of her combination of steely grit and feminine wiles. They had rescued the children just as planned and she had celebrated her victory in the arms of an aide worker named Peter. She'd never so much as apologized, reminding him that their relationship had been new and far from settled. That was her other talent, making you feel guilty that you might be upset with her for something.

"Good luck, Tink. Smee will handle this for you. See him about the invoice."

She nodded, seeming to recognize his reluctance. "I was hoping you might help at least interview some of the volunteers. You know how I am about such things." The smile on her face seemed genuine. "I could pay you back for your time. Most are coming tomorrow…"

"I have plans," he said shortly. Emma had agreed to another one of the meetings with Henry and Regina. She had shyly brought it up to him, asking if he might join them. He had said he didn't want to intrude, but she had suggested that it might be easier to have another male present given that she did not know what to say to her son.

"Of course," she said, gathering her belongings. "I'll see myself out."

***AAA***

Emma paced in the backstage area of the school auditorium where the debate was scheduled to take place. She had first thought to take her seat with the others in the audience, but the loud titter of excitement over the public spectacle had turned her stomach with the knowledge of what was about to happen. She was still wearing her cream colored sweater and dark jeans while the others backstage seemed more conservative with their suits and dresses that were more stately.

"I guess there is no convincing him?" she asked Mary Margaret who was leaning back against the pillar that held the roof in that section of the hallway. "He's dead set."

"The police are planning to arrest his father any moment now. He wants to do this before that happens."

"Why? So his father can see it and have a heart attack?" Emma had met with the police herself, signing the complaint and not bothering to make a lengthy statement. She had not even seen David who was meeting with the officials behind closed doors and brought nobody with her for moral support.

"I doubt you're too concerned about the state of his heart." The teacher's eyes scanned the small crowd of men and women rushing about in the hallway. "God knows I'm not."

It was disconcerting to see Mary Margaret react in such a way. Earlier she had been resigned to the facts of David's decision, but standing there in the black dress with the large white collar, she looked quite upset with the idea. Her pink lips showed the wear of someone who had been chewing incessantly upon them. "What's gotten into you?" Emma hissed at her friend. "You were okay with all this a few hours ago."

The teacher wrapped her arms around herself and shivered in the drafty hallway. "I can tell how much this is hurting him. And I can't do anything to stop it."

Emma's hand shakily went to her friend's shoulder, tugging her toward her with an awkward but gentle hug. The two embraced for a moment longer until the clacking of high heels signified another arrival.

"Have you seen the sheriff?" Regina asked, her eyes scanning the half dozen people in the hallway. "He wanted to go over his speech before he took the stage."

"He's on the phone," Mary Margaret answered, pulling away from Emma and dabbing at her eyes. "He'll be ready on time."

The mayor scoffed, her eyes scanning both women as if inspecting and judging their outfits. She clearly didn't approve based on the look on her face and the way she spun on an expensive heel and stalked off to where Robin stood near the stage entrance talking to Graham. Emma was only mildly amused that the woman had said nothing to her, basically ignoring her very existence.

It was not more than a few minutes later that David walked into view. There was an uncomfortableness about him being out of his typical jeans and button down shirt though his suit fit perfectly and seemed to call attention to all his best features. To Emma's surprise, he didn't look nervous like she would if forced to make such a public proclamation. She was not shy, but she was not big for letting people see the real her. It was one thing to make an announcement about a road closure or a case she had been working on and quite another to admit to her own life's failings.

"You don't have to stay, Emma," he said as Mary Margaret gave him a quick peck on the cheek and smoothed the lapels of his jacket. "Sidney or one of the others might ask more questions of you. I wouldn't want…"

Her chin lifted in a resolute position. "I'm not letting you go out there alone. You would do this for me."

He smiled weakly at her, holding his fiancé's hand tightly after she finished her fussing over him. "I do appreciate this, Emma. I know you aren't thrilled with my decision, but you standing here means so much to me. You are my family."

***AAA***

Killian had not taken it personally when Emma had said that she did not want him to attend the debate turned press conference. He knew that she was strong enough to handle it and likely to be less than amiable with her personality. While he had known her only a short time, he had already realized that she was not a woman who liked to be around people all the time. She craved her independence, which he could certainly give her.

Pouring himself a glass of rum, he had toed off his shoes before collapsing onto the couch. He could still sense her there on the furniture, the sweet and alluring smell of her or the fact that her shampoo was still in his shower. There was something comforting about that, as he had never been one to share his home or life either. He preferred to keep himself occupied with acquaintances rather than friends, but he was finding Emma to be different.

It wasn't just holding her at night or making love to her when their bodies required nothing else. He loved to see her smile, hear her laugh, and listen to her stories of her day. Each nugget of information he had of her was turned over and over in his mind like a shiny new coin. He inspected and studied it before tucking it away for further reference. None of it was taken for granted. All throughout his day he found himself wanting to tell her things, share news or sights with her. It was maddening and lovely all at the same time.

She had not mentioned if she would be over later, but he kind of felt that she could be so he kept himself busy with a proposal he was working on and trying to persuade the manufacturer to finish the renovations on Tink's order much faster than was probably necessary. The television droned in the background as his fingers ran across the page.

David's speech was short, succinct, and directly to the point as he told of his plans to exit the race for sheriff. Not surprised by the news, as Emma had already told him, Killian watched the reactions of the others and felt for the man who was clearly making a life change without the security of a safety net. One of the cameramen zoomed in on the face of Mr. Nolan, who had no idea of his own fate.

His phone sounded again, but he'd already checked it twice and knew that it was Smee and then a message from Tink. Neither were ones he cared to answer at that moment.

His eyes flipped from the phone to the screen where David was inundated with questions. None of them were polite, asking if he was having some torrid affair or if he was entering rehab. Though the sheriff was patient, he could see the tense set of his jaw and the clenched fist at the podium. Again the screen flipped to Mr. Nolan who appeared horrified at his son's announcement.

***AAA***

"I didn't think you'd be alone here," the familiar voice said to her as he commandeered the seat next to her. "David wasn't in much of a celebratory mood?"

Emma downed the rest of the beer bottle, narrowing her eyes at her co-worker suspiciously. She had stopped into the Rabbit Hole on her way back from the press conference, finding herself wanting a few moments to digest the day instead of just settling in for it with the rest of her friends. Ruby was working late. Mary Margaret and David had taken off for her loft in search of a bit of peace and quiet. Robin had driven Regina home to Henry while John took the evening shift. It was the kind of night she was used to having, alone with her insecurities and thoughts, but truth be told she no longer felt as comfortable with that alone time now. She knew that Killian would welcome her, but she wasn't sure she was ready for that either.

"I'm sure you can guess why not," Emma answered, pushing the brown beer bottle back across the bar to signal she was finished with it. "I thought you would be out with your contributors and supporters. Congratulations by the way."

Graham nodded his acceptance with a muttered thanks. "You know this isn't how I wanted to do this? I wanted to win. Hell, even if I lost, I wanted to know I had fought a good fight. It was never just about the election." His eyes looked downward and sad for a moment. "David's not a bad guy. I never…"

She cut him off. "You won," she reminded him. "Be proud of that. In a few weeks I'll be calling you boss."

"Thank you for your congratulations, Emma," he said, swiveling to stare at the handwritten menu on the chalkboard above the bar. "But I don't think now is the time to celebrate. I don't think I would have won any other way, but for him dropping out."

Emma agreed, motioning to the bartender and buying her new boss a drink. "You have earned it," she told him, gathering her jacket and taking her leave before he could thank her again.

***AAA***

"He did quite well with them," Killian commented when Emma arrived, sliding the water she had requested in front of her. "I was impressed." Still in his socks, he had padded to the door to let her in with no surprise evident but no cockiness either. She sat at his kitchen table as he tried to pamper her with whatever she might want, only slightly disappointed that it seemed she was satisfied by a glass of water.

Emma nodded absently, face clouded with the memory. "I don't want to talk about it," she said. Her voice was firm, but she caressed his cheek as though she was saying something much sweeter to him. Tilting her head back and pulling him by his collar, she fused their lips together hastily.

When he pulled back, he could see the dimness of her eyes and the lack of fire that was usually there. "I suppose we should get you to bed," he said softly. "You've had quite a day."

She hesitated, hands wrapped around the water glass. "Are you still coming with me tomorrow? To see Henry?" Suddenly he face turned horrified. "I shouldn't ask that of you, should I? He's just a kid. He wants to get to know his mother and his mother is bringing along a guy she's dating…how horrible is that? I should just keep it simple, right? Just me and him and Regina."

Though he opened his mouth to respond, he shook off the initial words and smiled. Sitting down next to her, he folded his hands in front of her. "Love, you would know best about that, but I don't think your son is going to be that upset to find that you have a life outside of work and finding out about him. His adoptive mother is dating someone so it is not a new concept to the lad. But if you feel this is something you need to do alone, then I won't insist upon interrupting."

"I want you there," she said slowly. "I just don't want him to think that I chose to give him up so I could have the life I have now. My future didn't seem that good while I was pregnant and in jail. I…"

"Your future seemed quite bleak, I'm sure," Killian said. "And I'm also sure that your boy can understand that. Emma, your fear that he somehow feels as you have about his childhood is unfounded. He was not abandoned. He has a loving home and mother who has raised him. Now he has you too."

She stared at him incredulously. "I don't even know what to talk to him about," she said. "It has been a long time since I was his age and I was never a boy."

"Thankfully," Killian said, holding his hand out to her as he stood. Gripping hers, he pulled her to her feet. "I was a young lad at one point. And I have an idea." He kissed her temple, guiding her back into the living room to the sound of her questions. "Just sit, love. I promise this will help you with your boy."

Depositing her on the sofa, he turned away from her to fiddle at the television set. He answered none of the questions about what he was doing or why, even darting into the kitchen again before returning with popcorn and a couple of drinks. "You want to tell me what this is about?" she asked as he situated himself on the sofa too, pulling her in to rest against his chest and between his legs.

"When your son was at your apartment I happened to see a few items in his bag. Seems that like most lads his age that he's an avid fan comic books. So I selected a few movies we could watch so that you might have something to talk with the boy about." He smiled proudly, holding the remote out in a big show of pressing play. "So do you think we can avoid ravishing each other long enough to watch a few superheroes save the world?"


	24. Chapter 24

David Nolan wasn't a man who usually showed fear, but when he and Emma exchanged glances in the lobby of the correctional facility where the state had housed his father, it was clear that the man was nervous. There was an uncertainty to his movements as he signed his name after Emma's and presented his identification as well to a uniformed officer who gave it a cursory glance and buzzed them in with nary another look at them.

"You're up to this, right?" Emma asked, even her whispered tone echoing in the long windowless hallway. It smelled vaguely of a hospital and she wondered briefly if they both used the same cleaning materials.

"He isn't going to get under my skin," David said doggedly. "I won't allow it."

She didn't respond right away, purposefully matching his steps with her own. She fell in line beside him, seeing the vague image of someone waiting for them toward the end of the hallway. "I'll try to make the same promise," she finally responded. "We've got each other's backs right. I defend you. You defend me."

He slowed his steps as he blinked at her. "You're worried?"

"About you? No. About me? Hell yes. This man hates me, David. You can't truly think that this will go well with me in the room. I'm likely to say something and it'll turn ugly." She turned her head slightly to catch his worried expression. She hadn't meant for him to be concerned. "You have bail money, right? Just in case."

His features contorted in pain briefly, then he nodded his way through those thoughts. "You think I would bail you out after I have refused to consider it for my father. My, my Emma, you're thinking highly of yourself today."

Bumping his left bicep with her right shoulder, she rolled her eyes at him. "You can at least buy me lunch this week."

"For what?" David asked in surprise. His eyes narrowing in on her with a marked uptake in confusion.

"Well," Emma said, pretending to consider that for a moment. "Being your best friend that you're not sleeping with?"

He tapped his chin as though seriously considering this title. "I don't know. Robin might disagree."

Her blonde hair flew as she whipped her head in surprise. "You're telling me now that you're sleeping with Robin? Does Regina know? Mary Margaret?" One hand landed on her chest as if she might call for her smelling salts at any moment. He rolled his eyes in response as Emma gauged how close they were to the man waiting to see them. "Okay, fine. Your best female friend you're not sleeping with?"

"Deal," he said with a curt but affirmative nod. "You can't tell Ruby though."

Both were laughing, attempting to mute the echoing sounds as they were ushered into a nondescript conference room with people in dark suits and ties. Emma reminded herself to tell David she was concerned about Men In Black and alien activities upon seeing the emotionless and stoic faces with the same uniformed appearances and mannerisms. Each appeared indistinguishable from the last. Perhaps a little levity would be what he needed after this meeting with his father's attorneys.

Even in a time when he was clearly hurting and confused about his future, David was a gentleman. Before taking the seat indicated by the man standing closest to them, he pulled out a chair for Emma. She did not even snark at the chivalrous gesture.

The first words from the darkly dressed men were formalities, introductions, and explanations that the senior Mr. Nolan was moments from being released. "We didn't expect to hold him this long," the younger of the men said with a nonchalance that made Emma wonder just how long he had been in the field. "It's just a matter of him turning over his passport and other documents. Flight risk and all."

"And all," David muttered to himself and then spoke louder. "I guess my seeing him was never going to happen." The men about the table and on the perimeter of the room shared synchronized looks. It made the one shared by Emma and David pale in comparison.

"He hasn't been too friendly," one of the other men said hesitantly. "We haven't really…"

Emma spoke up, her voice a bit shrill in the hollowness of the room. "That man is his father…you're going to keep him away?"

The younger man finally appeared to show some of his inexperience as he hesitated, studying what appeared to be a fraternity ring on his hand. "We haven't really broached the subject, ma'am." He coughed. "Mr. Nolan…Sheriff Nolan… sort of led us to this arrest. I'm not sure it would be appropriate."

"I was asked to pay his bail," David interrupted. His voice did not sound sure at that point. "So he would take my money, but he won't see me?"

Emma's hand automatically petted at his forearm, a gesture she had picked up from Killian's comforting moves. "Can you at least have them ask him?" she asked quietly. David had come specifically to see his father. He had not said as much, but she knew he wanted to see if there was even the least amount of shame or regret in his eyes.

The young man hesitated again and then made a single nod at the one closest to the door. It seemed like only seconds before he was back and leading Emma and David down to the visiting area. His father was already dressed in suit and tie, lacking the orange jumpsuit of the other prisoners. It was one of the perks of having money.

"Gloating is beneath you, David," the man said as David took his seat at the partitioned table. "Especially when you should be ashamed."

"The only thing I'm ashamed of is not seeing you for the man you are," David said bitterly. "I had hoped…I wanted to talk to you about what you had done. I realize you won't confess to anything. That's the reason for all this." He motioned at the two lawyers behind them who probably represented at least a dozen that had been hired. "What was your first phone call? To a PR firm? Your statement to the media came just an hour after your arrest. Who does that?"

Emma had known her friend would be emotional, his words tumbling out like they stung his own mouth. But she had hoped he would hang on a bit more, not giving his father the satisfaction.

"You gave me no warning of your treachery, nor your lack of loyalty," he responded, just as dully unaffected as he usually sounded. "You stepped out of the race for sheriff. Is that your real punishment for me? TO see you unemployed and worthless?"

David's eyes flashed with some unspoken bit of triumph. "I wish I could have seen your face better when I did that, father. It would have been the icing on the cake."

"Such a waste," Spencer admonished. "Such a disgusting waste of potential. That's what makes me sick about this whole thing. I don't give a damn about the sheriff's job. I wanted you to be more, but you gave this up. You gave up."

"Was it really that important to you?" David asked, the treble of his voice sounding a bit less accusatory. "Why? I want to understand, but I don't. Why was it so important that I be elected to anything?"

While the hard edges of Spencer's demeanor were certainly on display, Emma noticed a softness that had not been there before. The creases of his skin were more pronounced. His hair was thinner and whiter and his eyes seemed deeper set and almost hidden behind the sagging lids. She could not call him grandfatherly, but for a brief moment she imagined he and Ruth looking over a wrapped bundle that David and Mary Margaret had produced. No such moment would exist, she realized. While the babies would certainly come, there would be not grandmother to dote and no grandfather to be a part of the child's life.

"It was who you were meant to be," Spencer answered. "You and your brother were both meant for more than mediocrity. You're a Nolan."

Emma saw it then, the brief moment when David felt that same inferiority that she had felt growing up. He wondered if his father truly loved him at all or if it had been all about the potential. No one, she reasoned, wants to feel like they aren't worthy or they aren't enough. "I'm your son," David said, interrupting her thoughts. "But no matter what I did with my life, you should have been proud. When Mary Margaret and I have a child, I won't let him or her ever feel that they have to live up to some expectation of greatness to earn my love. You may have had my interests in your plans, but you went about it the wrong way. Kidnapping people? Trying to frame innocent people? Ruining people's reputations because you could? That's sick and disturbing."

The elder Nolan blinked dubiously at his son. "I assumed you felt that way when you decided to have me arrested," he stated before turning the steely gaze toward Emma. "I assume you aren't here to just watch, Ms. Swan. Did you have something to say to me too? Did I not buy you a pony? Or did you want more hugs from your foster family? What is it that I did to screw you over that you're here to gloat about now?"

The hairs on the back of David's neck stood as the room seemed to grow colder, Emma's rigid posture becoming even tighter. "I don't know what you mean," she answered sweetly – too sweetly. "I love everyone knowing my business. I only wished that you had thought to have the mug shot printed as a t-shirt." Her pasted on smile lasted a moment longer, never quite reaching her eyes.

"Somehow I doubt you are being honest in your reaction, but lovely thoughts," he said. "Honestly, the two of you act quite surprised that I would want my son to win an election and would be disappointed in his disinterest in that. And, Emma, I realize you don't have a family and wouldn't know what it means to have that unconditional love, but this is not something I take lightly."

Emma's eyes turned downward at the reminder of no family, but she said nothing in return to the man. "So you are confessing to your involvement in the kidnapping of that couple, the framing of Regina and Killian for the mix up with the contract, and of course this crap you pulled with Emma."

Spencer Nolan said nothing more to his son.

***AAA***

Ruby looked up from the pile of printed recipes and cookbooks that her grandmother had insisted that she peruse with a welcome and relieved smile on her face. Her dark hair fell in luxurious waves and the satin like blouse with one button too many open to reveal skin that should have made her feel cold in the brisk November in Maine air.

"You look like you could use a break," Emma said, finding herself caught in the sleeve of her coat. The blonde shimmied a bit to pull herself free from the red wool, repeating the gesture when she felt the temperature of the diner's drafty corner booth. "Jesus, it's freezing in here."

"Granny claims it makes the customers want more coffee and not stay as long over their plates of lukewarm eggs and toast." Ruby might have little interest in her grandmother's business, but she had a mind like a steel trap for remembering the woman's advice and strategies. Stealing a glance at the clock above the counter, she turned her confused expression back to Emma. "Long time no see around here. You're either late for breakfast or early for lunch."

"Brunch?" Emma asked, shrugging her shoulders innocently. "Sorry, I had to meet with the state's attorney about the case."

One corner of Ruby's mouth turned upward as she settled for that answer and showed her disdain for the situation at the same time. "Please tell me they are going to fry that guy," Ruby announced, stretching her long arms over head with her hands both clasped around the highlighter she had been using. "Kidnapping is serious business, plus that crap he pulled with you and your record. Someone has to kick his butt."

"Not quite how the judicial system works," Emma told her friend, tilting her head to read the title on one of the recipes. "Pecan and maple dusted bacon?"

"Trying to jazz up the Thanksgiving at the diner." Ruby's twitched her nose a little to punctuate the sarcasm. Each year Mrs. Lucas hosted a community Thanksgiving dinner that everyone without family was invited to attend. It was the one event that nobody ever wanted to admit that they would think about attending. Each year Granny would buy crates of food to the argument of Ruby who said nobody would come to the event. However, it was every year that people were lined up to get the, turkey, potatoes, pumpkin pie and cranberries. "I thought we could do something different."

"Admitting that your grandmother's event is going to be a success?" Emma teased, lifting another of recipes to skim. "I seem to recall that you usually tell her to cancel it." Emma had been attending the events as long as she could remember, starting with watching the parade with Ruby as they finished the last minute details that Granny trusted them to complete, followed by providing a lunch to the residents of the retirement home, and then culminating in the main dinner at the diner. Afterward Mary Margaret would arrive fresh from dinner at the Nolan's, complaining about the way David's father had treated her and snacking on leftover pie in front of a movie marathon and plans for shopping.

"I thought we might have one less guest this year," Ruby said pointedly, not taking Emma's bait. "Won't you be busy with Killian?" The brunette's tone was mocking as she stared accusingly at the blonde's flushed face.

"We…I…We haven't talked holidays," Emma said, moving the bag her friend had placed the seat opposite of her and trying to slide into the seat.

Ruby shifted her feet that she had propped with crossed ankles in the seat. It was as much of an invitation as she gave to her friend. "I was thinking you might see Henry that day too." It was a fishing attempt for more information, as Ruby clearly felt a bit left out of the conversation about Emma's issue. Mary Margaret knew things as the boy's teacher, but Ruby was not privy to those conversations.

"I don't know about that," Emma answered, a gloved hand breezing through the air between them. "I mean it is too much to think about holidays."

"And that outfit?" Ruby challenged. "You obviously are going to the honors night at the school? Robin already called and ordered dinner for you all. So I know that something is up."

Emma sighed, running her gloved hand over her hair to tame it from the hat she had been wearing. She knew she owed Ruby an explanation, as they had been the best of friends for years. While she found that she shared more in common with Mary Margaret in terms of quiet nature and less outlandish style, Ruby truly understood some of the same feelings that Emma had suffered all of her life. She explained the invitation to Ruby, sharing that she was nervous about the idea and excited at the same time.

"I think you're forgetting something, Emma," Ruby said, capping and uncapping the highlighter in quick succession. "Henry came looking for you. He sought you out. He wants to know you. This isn't you interloping on his life, as you called it. You're a step ahead there."

"I guess," Emma answered hesitantly, resisting the urge to change the subject as she usually did with uncomfortable topics. "I don't know how interested he could be though."

Emma's insecurity earned her a frustrated look and sigh. "Seriously? I usually have these topics about men. You know is he into you or not, but I guess it is the same thing with kids. The kid is putting the effort out there. He freaking ran away to meet you. Don't you know Regina grounded his butt when he got back there? He's emailed and called you almost daily. He wants to hear from you. He wants to know more about you and where he comes from. And you are doubting that?"

Emma's patented looks for when she had no words were her legendary cross between a chagrinned smirk of being caught and the annoyed eye roll of being found out. She gave Ruby such a look and changed the subject back to Thanksgiving. With a few ideas ready to present to Granny, Ruby looked a bit calmer when Emma said she had to go back to work.

"By the way," Ruby said as Emma resituated her knitted hat on her head, the black a stark contrast to her blonde hair. "You look great. Very mom like."

Emma glanced down at the buttoned up blouse in a cream color and wool pencil skirt in black. Her legs were covered in a textured pair of tights and knee high boots. "You think? I could have gone for the mom jeans?"

"Too soon to be pulling out the mom jeans," Ruby declared with a laugh. "I like this. You look like a hot mom."

***AAA***

Emma ran her brush through her hair carefully, staring critically at her reflection in the mirror. Her mouth was turned down in a careful discerning expression. The green eyes met green, running along the angles of her face and softly flowing fabric of her cream colored shirt with the circle pendant she has worn for years shining in the lamplight. Her dark skirt was not something she wore usually, the straightness of the cut pulled over the curve of her hips and accentuated them perfectly.

"Be careful, darling," Killian said, coming up behind her and winding his arms around her waist. "You seem to be not quite so enamored with your reflection as I am."

She gave him a weak imitation of a smile. "I don't know how to dress for one of these things. I'm not really just a spectator, but I'm not really a mom either. I just don't want to make Henry uncomfortable." Her hands rested over his, leaning her back to his chest.

"You look beautiful," he told her, nuzzling into her blonde curls. "I doubt very seriously that Henry will care if you wear this skirt or a potato sack. But I'm most appreciative of it, love." His hips rotated against her backside, indicating his deep appreciation for the ensemble.

"You're biased," she accused laughingly. "It just seems a little odd to wear something to jail this morning, work this afternoon, and now to see my son."

"Quite versatile," he mumbled, running his lips along her neck, his nose pushing through the path to reveal the soft skin he sought. "So beautiful."

Her head lolled against his shoulder though the protests were evident on her lips. "We have to get to the school, Killian."

He gave one last run of his lips along the column of her neck. "Raincheck?"

She sighed. "I have the weekend off," she told him, not removing herself from his embrace. "You?" He hesitated, expelling a bit of breath that caused her skin to pebble in reaction. She giggled at the sensation, but his silence made her crane her neck to look at him. "Is something wrong?"

"Just a touch of work fatigue," he said simply. "I'd love to spend a weekend with you."

She smiled brighter, grinning at his earnest expression. "Easiest invitation I ever handed out." She deposited her own kiss against his cheek. "You make things easier."

***AAA***

The boy's voice was muffled with the intake of fries and bread as he tried to explain to the four adults the new video game that he had been teaching Robin's four year old son to play. "It's simple," Henry announced, a bit of the food spraying out of his mouth from the effort. Killian and Robin both managed to appear amused as Regina wrinkled her nose in disgust and Emma looked shocked at the sheer volume of food that little mouth could hold.

The various bags and boxes of fried and grilled treats from Granny's were strewn over the counter at Regina's kitchen, the mayor biting her tongue about the mess as the group seemed to be having a good time despite the awkwardness. Roland was curled up asleep on a section of the bench seating in the corner, his tiny hand fisted at his mouth as though he might take back up sucking his thumb after he had given it up more than a year before.

"Henry," Regina admonished when the boy reached for another long shoestring potato rather than a napkin. "You have better table manners than this."

Killian ran his hand along the wool of Emma's skirt under the table, squeezing her thigh slightly. She had been a bit quiet when they had first arrived at the auditorium, accepting a hug from Mary Margaret and sharing a wave from Henry as she slipped into one of the back seats. The thin paper program was rolled in her hands as she stole a few glances at the students being ushered backstage as the auditorium seemed to fill up with parents, grandparents, siblings, and family friends. A tiny brunette woman with owl like glasses stared at Emma for a moment, teeth gnawing at her garish pink lips. "Parent?"

Emma startled. "Excuse me?"

"Are you a parent of one of the students?" she asked, holding her clipboard in one hand and raising her glasses with the other for a better inspection. Finding no answer there, she looked back at Emma with a more serious glare.

"I'm..uhhh…," Emma stammered and clutched the rolled paper even harder. "I'm…"

"She's here with me," Mary Margaret answered, sweeping in with her rescue and a wink. The teacher, who was clearly busy with the direction of students and last minute details, reached around the other school official turned bouncer toward her friend. With a hasty gesture, she led them to a closer section. "You're his mom too. Sit here." That was how they ended up in the parents section with both Killian and Emma distinctly uncomfortable around the doting parents.

Emma had sat through the program rapt with attention and smiling broadly as the boy read his poem to a polite amount of applause. She had held Killian's hand, squeezing when she felt the tears prickling in her eyes. "He's very smart," she had whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder. "So smart."

"Aye," Killian said just as softly. "He is." Killian's eyes aren't locked on the stage like Emma's, instead watching her reaction and seeing her struggle to look with masked pride. She had told him earlier that she didn't felt she deserved to know her son, didn't think she had that right. But here she was in that small circle of his life.

She still wore that expression that she was trying so hard to hide. There was a bit of awe as she watched Henry and spoke to him, everything measured and planned. That first conversation in her apartment had been spontaneous but now she found herself going through a preplanned script in her mind. She tried to speak to him about things she knew or assumed he liked. There were the obligatory questions about friends and school. But she heard her own voice sounding stilted though Henry didn't seem to mind.

"You like school then?" she asked, ignoring the slightly annoyed expression from Regina who seemed to be judging.

"Yeah," he answered without much thought, twirling a fry through the ketchup. "It's okay."

Killian had been quiet most of the meal except for a few quips with Robin, but thankfully spoke up to ease some of the conversation. "Your poem was great, lad. I can tell that you must like English class quite a bit." He gently nudged Emma's leg with his own. "Have you read anything interesting in there yet?"

That seemed to open a new floodgate of information as the boy talked about some of his favorite books and the ones that had been made into movies. He had some of the same tastes as Emma, which certainly helped keep the conversation going. Robin joined in with a few remembrances of his own favorites and soon they were all sharing notes that turned into discussions of some of their own favorite memories of childhood pranks.

Robin was in the midst of some story that seemed to get even wilder as the words built when Emma's phone chirped incessantly. Shooting the boy an apologetic look, Emma slipped from the table and carried the phone to the house's foyer where she leaned against the wall and answered.

"Emma," the familiar voice said gruffly back to her. Her eyes were shut but she could see him as if he was there in front of her.

"Neal, I'm not really able…"

"The freaking mayor?" he asked, his words sounding raw and rough at the same time. "You gave our child to the mayor?"

"Neal, this isn't the time," she managed to break in, opening her eyes and leaning forward to view the kitchen. None of them were looking at her, seemingly oblivious to this conversation. "We don't have custody or rights to him. It's not a punishment. It's just the way things are right now." Her voice cracked a bit, but the deputy in her jumped to the surface. Eyes darting to the floor to ceiling windows, she blinked into the darkness for any sign of him lurking.

"He's my son, Emma," Neal responded with a growl. "He's my son and you can't keep me from him." She almost thought he had hung up with that. "I would have taken care of him. Of you. You didn't give me that chance."

Her eyes shut again. "You didn't give me a choice," she reminded him. "Neal, don't do this. He's just a little boy. He doesn't need this right now. He is just getting used to…"

The phone clicked in her ear, the silence evident. "Ms. Swan? Is everything okay?" Regina asked, the sound of her heels sharp against the floor. "Henry was asking…" She stopped short.

"Neal was on the phone," Emma said feebly. "He…he knows that you…He knows…"

The dark haired woman rocked backwards, her arms folding over her chest. "You surely didn't think he'd not figure it out. He may appear to be a bum, but he's not stupid. And he's Gold's son. That's not a recipe for stupidity."

"I don't want to bring this into Henry's life right now." It was something she had battled with herself. Henry had still not asked the question about his father. He had not even said anything about why she had made her decision. "I'm sorry," Emma said, the words not feeling entirely appropriate on her tongue in the situation.

The dark eyes of the mayor flashed upward before returning to the floor. "I hope you aren't expecting sympathy from me," she answered, tapping the manicured tips of her fingers against her folded arms. "You can't be surprised that this man you slept with would want to know his son."

"He wasn't around for me to ask at the time," Emma fired back, softening her tone as she continued. "Legally he doesn't have a leg to stand on."

"Legalities aren't quite comforting in this situation. Henry hasn't asked about his father, but you and I both know that will come soon enough. And if he…this Neal…wants to, he's going to find a way to show up here. So now I have to come up with a way to protect my son because…"

"I never thought he would show back up," Emma said. "He isn't really big on commitment."

The mayor scoffed silently. "So you're telling me that we're about to work up my son into an excited state only to have this man disappear again? Because I'm not so sure I can support such a thing, no matter how much this man might want to have a relationship with Henry." She turned her head fast, the shoulder length dark hair splayed in a slow motion fashion that was similar to one seen in a shampoo commercial. It was clearly a chance to look at Henry who was animatedly telling a story to the two men at the table.

"But unless we want to go to court, I'm thinking we're lacking a leg to stand on here."

Emma's weight shifted from one foot to the other. "I never meant…"

Her hand flew up to silence the deputy. "Henry's in the other room and no matter how simple motherhood may appear to you, you would know that little pitchers tend to have big ears. He listens to what we say. So we're going to go back in there with smiles on our faces. You are going to say your goodbyes to him, drag that lovesick fool off with you, and you're going to figure out how we're going to get Neal out of all of our lives."

 ** _Thoughts?_**


	25. Chapter 25

**_This chapter jumps around a bit, but I hope you still like it and follow along with the story. I can't say it enough how much I enjoy your comments. Yes, we're in store for a little angst, but I promise to be gentle._**

Killian wondered if it was supposed to be easy and natural to be there in that bed as Emma curled a single fist against his chest and mumbled a few nonsense words against the skin of his neck. He had found himself in this position a few times, wide awake as she dozed against him, burrowing into his embrace as she warded off the cold chill of the morning. He had already learned that about her, learned that her skin reacted quickly to the temperature, bringing out the protective side of him as his arm covered her bare shoulders.

Feeling the slight tickle of her eyelashes against his neck, he smiled to himself. "Has the alarm gone off?" she muttered, flattening out her fist over where his heart was beating. "I swear mornings come faster and faster."

"Just a few minutes until it will sound," he said softly. "Care to enjoy our moments of leisure."

She dropped a kiss against the cords of his neck before tilting her head back to peer up at him. "Would take more than a few minutes to really enjoy," she countered saucily, "but you're welcome to try."

"I do love a challenge," he teased back, rolling their embrace so that she was on her back and he was hovered over her. The soft morning light creeping in was dancing in her eyes as she giggled – a sound he was sure he would never get fully used to hearing – and her smile seemed both playful and taunting. "And you are too beautiful to resist, love."

"I don't think you've ever even tried." His fingers dug into her side to elicit another round of giggles as he tickled her. Her voice was wavering when she finally spoke again. "You've never tried to resist me."

"Bloody failure I am," he admonished himself. He didn't fail in persuading her to stay in bed a little longer, even making her breakfast as she showered that morning so she wouldn't be late for work.

***AAA***

Graham had not bothered to take his belongings to the sheriff's actual office, telling a curious Robin and John that he preferred to wait until after the election. "I would prefer to be the proper sheriff before I begin commandeering space," he answered, taking his seat with the rest of them for the morning briefing. John had suggested a pool to indicate how long everyone thought it would be before David smarted off in some way about the situation, but nobody paid attention.

"David said he might be a little late," Emma said that Friday morning as she twisted the old fashioned phone cord in between her fingers. The frown on her features was evident as she stared at a single sheet of paper. "Did you know that Hans and his brother made bail?"

He probably wasn't listening, which was why he barely shrugged his shoulders and continued making notes on something she was not privy to at that time. Realizing his lack of attention and interest, she frowned. "Graham?"

Startled, the man looked up from his own notes and smiled. "Sorry, is there something I need to know?"

"Hans was released this morning. His family paid the bond in cash." The phone's cord was wrapped tightly around her free hand, a twisted mess. "Where did they get the money?" The wheels in her head turn with the lack of possibilities, as she knew like everyone that the family was cash poor. They owned many holdings, but they could barely rub two coins together.

"Sold something, I guess," Graham answered, confusion evident in his eyes over displeasure with that. "Spencer Nolan's already walking around town and it bothers you about the brothers?"

Emma wasn't sure that she could put her anxiety into words. "Mr. Nolan is a jerk and certainly a menace, but he's lazy and unable to the work himself. The difference is that he's strategic and not likely to act on impulse." She didn't finish her thought that the brothers were more likely to act out of retaliation and anger.

"I doubt they would do much," Graham consoled a bit condescendingly. "You're more likely to see Hans in a bathtub washing off the stench of the jail and the itchiness of his jumper than plotting to get back at those who wronged him."

"It's always dangerous to assume someone is too stupid, lazy, or distracted." She looked back at the release form. "Where did he get that money?"

Graham's mouth formed the words to shoot down the question, reminding Emma that it was hardly important. Most of the criminals they arrested had very short initial stays in jail before their trials. However, even a blind man could see that the men's release was wearing on her. "Is it possible that Mr. Nolan paid the tab. Whatever their motivations, Spencer Nolan did convince the two of them to do his dirty work. Perhaps old Spencer has a bit of a soft side and agreed to pay their way out of jail?"

Her lips protruded as she thought about that for a moment, considering the likelihood. "Too much of a risk," Emma decided, rattling the paper. "I guess I should concentrate on what they are doing now that they are out."

Graham repeated that he thought they would be too busy planning their defense to worry about her or anyone else's involvement. However, Emma seemed unconvinced by it. "Perhaps the sister – Elsa – she might provide some insight. It might be a good idea to let them know what's going on anyway."

***AAA***

The building where Killian worked took casual Fridays to a serious level. The amount of denim, flannel, and cotton was alarming to anyone who detested such things. Killian wasn't necessarily opposed to it, but when the t-shirt Smee was wearing bore the famous lines of a sci-fi movie, the stubble faced man wished for a simple starched shirt and even a clip on tie. It was hard to take him seriously as he barked out numbers with a giant image of Yoda stretched thin over his portly form.

"The refurb is well under way," he claimed cheerily. "Hard to believe, but the company seemed to be just sitting around waiting for the job. The lady Greene will be on her way for her latest humanitarian efforts in the lap of nautical luxury."

A chuckle rose from the salesman's throat. "Just what did you order, Smee? I thought we were putting in a few extra bunks and rehauling the engine. You seem to think you're flipping it"

The older assistant looked a bit embarrassed as he realized how he had been gushing over the details. "It'll be a beauty of a rehab." He skipped over the skeptical face of Killian and looked pleadingly at Eric. "I should check on the progress."

Eric mutely nodded before taking a long sip of coffee from the company issued mug that all of the employees had received at the last holiday party. Nobody had thought how confusing it was to tell the difference in the dozens of similar mugs, causing all of them to write initials on the bottom of them. The eager man had already left the room by the time Eric looked to Killian. "Good job with the sale," he said with admiration. He raised his mug in a mocking toast like gesture. "I didn't know you had it in you, Jones."

The slight flush to Killian's cheeks was evident from the compliment. "If you doubted I could do it, you wouldn't have assigned it to me and you probably wouldn't have hired me, mate." Killian was aware that the sale had not been among his easiest, but with both parties desperate, he'd managed to make it work well for everyone involved. "But I'd rather not delve into those waters again."

Eric grimaced. "Don't tell me that you are having a moral dilemma over that sale. What the money is used for is not our business. Those two brothers needed the cash. It's not our business why."

Killian's right ankle rested on his knee, the imperfect stance adding to the company's casual appearance that morning. "Aye, but I do know. They kidnapped a girl and her fiancé. They gave my own girlfriend the run around about their guilt. And now they are out roaming the streets because you thought it was important to help them make that sale."

Eric essentially shrugged his shoulders at the litany of guilt that Killian was listing. "Those men are some of our best clients. They buy at least 10 new ships a year without a single complaint about price or time. They keep us in the black, Killian." His index finger circled the rim of the cup. "You haven't been doing quite as well with your quotas as of late. The owners wanted me to talk to you about it."

"I would think this sale put me back in their good graces," Killian said, shifting almost imperceptibly under the scrutiny. "I have two or three others on the line." He knew that he had been distracted lately, what with the accusations and spending time with Emma.

"Yes, well, consider it a bit of a warning," Eric said. "They aren't likely to be buying anything else for a while – at least until this legal trouble blows over. Might be better to concentrate on other interests and companies. This arrangement with Ms. Greene seems quite promising. She's a leader in her family's charitable interests and these humanitarian efforts are in need of the type of equipment we can provide. She has made mention of another two or three similar sized vessels for some work in Haiti? And another for some work in Central America."

"Tink's always got some sort of plan," Killian answered hesitantly. "She doesn't always think these things through so I can't say that any of her plans will ever fully evolve into a sale."

That wasn't news to Eric, who agreed silently. "That's why you need to be more involved there. Help guide her and influence her. The sales professional in you should know how to do it."

***AAA***

Emma's hands gripped the steering wheel especially tighter as she drove along the wet roads toward Elsa's home. The snow had almost all melted, leaving the roadways glistening with water that ran across in widening rivulets. It was not the weather that had Emma being such a careful and nervous driver, but her passenger who was commenting about his desire for the long break around Thanksgiving that had her exceeding the caution normally reserved for the road.

"I could use a break," Henry told her, his dark eyes flashing with glee as they made way along the winding road. "People don't think so, but it's hard to be a kid sometimes. I've got stress."

She suppressed a chuckle at the overly dramatic statement he was making, something she could clearly hear herself saying at his age had there been anyone there to listen. It was, for all intents and purposes the first time she was spending time alone with her son. There were no well-meaning friends in the kitchen and no adopted mothers on the other side of the table.

Henry had not asked why it was Emma and not his mother who had met him at the bus that afternoon. His crooked grin had widened into a full blown smile at the sight of her and he dragged his backpack on the ground as he hopped off the bus and ran for her. She was grateful she had not had to explain to him that Regina had called in a panic, as her meeting with Neal and his father was not going well between the lawyers, threats and concerns over everything. It must have been a desperate situation to have her begging the blonde to take the child away for a few hours.

"So…" Henry drawled, his voice louder now to shake her from her thoughts. "Where are we going?"

Emma leaned forward to see the color of the traffic light she had stopped at. Her car was a bit over the balk line, making the light almost overhead. "I have to do this thing for work, but I thought we could have dinner. Maybe pizza?"

"Cool," he said, kicking his backpack on the floorboard. "I like pizza. This thing for work? Are you going to arrest someone? Question a suspect? Did you bring your gun?" The excitement in his voice reminded her that he was quite young and impressed by her job.

"I'm going to talk to two friends," Emma said quickly. "No danger involved."

Henry looked briefly disappointed at that news, but quickly recovered. "Does this car have a light and siren?"

"Sorry, kid," Emma said, patting the steering wheel of the yellow car with her gloved hand. "This car isn't a patrol car and not really state of the art. It still has a tape player…that doesn't work."

Henry looked curiously at the panel as though he had never seen anything like it before in his life. "No GPS, huh?"

***AAA***

Graham lurked outside the door to David's office, his hand poised to knock and then drew back to his pocket. There was an amused expression on David's face as he finished typing in the last details of a report. "You do realize this will be your office in a few weeks. You don't have to act scared to enter it."

"Just wasn't sure if this was a good time," Graham answered. "I wanted to alert you to where Emma was this afternoon." He shuffled a bit as he walked in and took a seat across from David. "She's visiting that girl who was kidnapped and her sister."

"Not really necessary, but I guess she feels better checking in on them," David answered distractedly. "Piece of advice, Emma is a good deputy, but she can get a little too personally involved on a case. Best thing to do is rein her in a little and let her think she's got your support. But don't fake it. She is a human lie detector."

Graham smiled placating expression. "I'll try to remember that, but it's not like I've ever worked with her before or anything."

"Sorry. I just wanted to impart some advice to you. I haven't really known what to say." David hit the keyboard of his computer with a flourish and pushed himself in the wheeled chair away from it. "You know it wasn't about you. I wasn't afraid of losing to you."

"You probably wouldn't have lost. You have a knack for this. You've been a fine sheriff."

"You will be too," David agreed. "Now, we're a deputy down and I've got six hours of interrogation tapes to go through. You get the honor of traffic duty today."

***AAA***

Emma leaned against the counter in the sisters' kitchen, smiling fondly at the way Elsa seemed to be both older sister and mother to the excited Anna. They were testing cake samples for the upcoming wedding as Kris had already put in his vote and disappeared for some sort of conference call that he couldn't miss. Anna was randomly testing samples as Elsa transcribed her own preferences into an excel spreadsheet that she had developed specifically for the cause.

"The state's attorney said he made bail," Anna informed Emma. "I can't say that's a surprise. He isn't strong enough to sit in jail too long."

Elsa reached over to cover her sister's hands with her own. "I appreciate you coming here, Emma, but it wasn't really necessary. I don't think that Hans would dare to try to do anything with all the eyes on him." The lines on her forehead deepened as she thought. "Maybe we should look into some extra security."

"I'm not changing my life and going into hiding," Anna protested. "It's like being a prisoner." Her rust colored hair flew as she turned to look at the window. "It's not fair to ask me to be guarded."

"Fair or not, I can't lose my sister again," Elsa said, her gaze turning back to Emma. "Is that your suggestion?"

Emma could hear the low hum of the television in the adjoining room where Henry sat watching some show he just had to see. His disappointment in a mundane visit with the two women had not been hard to miss, but Anna had given him a few bites of cake samples and shown him the home theater room. He had been quick to dismiss the disappointment at that point. "I am a bit concerned how he and his brother were able to obtain the money for their bail. I just get a bad feeling about it."

The three discussed options and possibilities for a few minutes longer, throwing out ideas and dismissing them pretty quickly. Anna left them as she went to check on Kris, leaving the other two women alone.

"You're very kind to worry about us," Elsa said, placing the cover over the cake remnants. "But I know you pretty well at this point. It isn't just Anna's safety you're worried about."

"I can't put my finger on it," Emma said taking a seat on one of the padded bar stools in the modern but classic kitchen. "I guess everyone is right and they just sold some of their company or assets, but it was just so fast." She bit at her lip. "It's crazy. I just feel like I've been had here. I'm missing something."

Elsa clucked sympathetically for a moment. "I don't doubt that Hans is the biggest jerk ever. And I'll never forgive or forget, but is it possible you're projecting? You don't seem like the type to take good news well. Don't get prickly about it. I just mean that you are a realist. I am too. We wait on that other shoe to drop. Look at your life right now. There are a lot of shoes dropping. And you're handling them all so well, but part of you wonders what it going to happen next and what if you screw it up, right?"

Emma adjusted the knitted beanie on her golden hair, the one she had not taken off after realizing she would have hat hair. "I really hate it when people do that – analyzing me."

"I know," Elsa said. "I was just trying to help."

***AAA***

Tink's hand gripped the railing that had not been painted yet, her eyes darting from one spot to the next. "You're not ripping me off, Killian, are you?" she asked. Her nose wrinkled as though she was trying to discern something of the value by smell. "I don't need anything too extravagant."

"I know," Killian answered. "I promise. It's perfect for what you're looking for. The ship's in great condition. Plenty of room for passengers, supplies, and whatever else you might need. It's durable and certainly seaworthy."

"And a good deal, right?" she asked. "I run a nonprofit, but that doesn't mean I want to hand you my cash."

"It's a very good deal," Killian soothed. "I would bet it would appraise for at least twice the price." He tapped a foot impatiently as she walked gingerly along the deck, holding back instructions for her to go ahead and hurry. He was tired and anxious, none of which made it any more comfortable to stand there and watch her come up with reasons this had been a bad idea. She was smart, astute, and a good businesswoman, but she was also plagued with doubts when it came to decisions. He knew that of her well.

"And a captain and crew? Have you found those for me too?"

"Lass, I've spent quite a bit of time negotiating this sale for you. I haven't yet had time to find you a crew."

She was a good ten steps ahead of him when she turned and cast a look over her right shoulder, the blonde hair swaying with the movement. "Does that mean you found me a captain? My offer still stands, you know. You could come with me. I know you'd find it much more rewarding than sales. Can't you just imagine captaining your own ship? Especially on a mission like this?"

He forced a laugh. "I'll find you a captain and a suitable crew."

***AAA***

"I was going to offer you some left over pizza, but I think he inhaled it all," Emma said into her phone. "He's playing some video game right now and I'm waiting to hear back from Regina that it is safe to bring him to her house."

"No word on any of this with Neal then?" Killian asked.

"I haven't heard a thing since she told me to get him out of town for the afternoon."

"I'm sure that it will be fine," Killian said. "Regina isn't a woman I'd want to cross and neither are you. The two of you together make a formidable team that no sane person would ever want to cross."

She laughed tightly. "So that means you think Neal is insane?"

"To have left you and hurt you, most certainly," Killian chuckled back. "But I would not worry. Regina will set him in his place and you won't have to worry about him or his intentions toward your boy ever again."

She twisted in the booth so that she could better watch Henry as he continued his quest against zombies or whatever other enemy he was currently fighting. "I don't like people taking on my battles for me," she reminded him. "I'd rather take him on myself."

"Aye," Killian said. "And I would love nothing more than to remove that smirk from his face, but for today that isn't our job. Your job is to keep Henry out of the fray." He cleared his throat. "If you would like, I could come and meet you."

She appreciated the sentiment. "I think we'll be headed back to Storybrooke soon," she told him. "No need in you getting out here on the roads. They are starting to freeze up a little anyway. The snow's been melting and now the temp has been dropping. I'll see you soon."

"Be careful, love," Killian said reluctantly.

"I will. I'll call you when I hit town and maybe you can build us a fire for after I drop off Henry. I wouldn't mind a little time cuddled up with you." She could practically hear the beam in his voice as he promised to do just that with a glass of wine for them to celebrate his latest sale.

"Sounds like quite a coup," she said, sharing a glance with her son who had just smiled at her. "I can't wait to hear about it."

***AAA***

Regina wasn't sure which place was Killian's. She had only been to Emma's apartment once and vaguely recalled Killian's discussion about how he had found the place he called home. Her eyes were weary and the thin jacket she had been wearing in the conference room at city hall was inappropriate for the cold winter air that had settled on Storybrooke. Determining that she had the correct door, she balled her hand into a fist and banged incessantly until she heard the footsteps on the other side.

"Madam Mayor," Killian said, blinking at the light emitted by his own porch light. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"I'm here to collect my son," Regina answered as though the answer she provided should have been obvious. She peered around his shoulder to where the dim light of a dying fire showed no other life in the living room. "Ms. Swan is here, is she not?"

Rubbing his hands on his arms, Killian peers out over her shoulder too as if Emma and Henry might be hiding out there as some sort of joke. "She was to call me when she brought the lad back to you," he said, not fully sure why this conversation was taking place or why Emma was not there to explain. "Has she not…"

"I wouldn't be here if she had," Regina bit out. "Where the hell is my son?"


	26. Chapter 26

_Thank you and welcome to all the new followers and commenters. To those of you who comment on each chapter – I can't thank you enough. Not sure when the next chapter will be up. My classes started again and homework is kicking my butt, in addition to work, and raising my kids. But I won't forget about you._

"The idea is to take him by surprise," Ruby said, digging in the drawer where her grandmother kept the spare keys to the guest rooms. "We don't let him know we're coming."

"Yes, because the fact that the three of us are about to ambush him won't draw any attention at all," Mary Margaret shot back in an uncharacteristically snarky voice. She leaned forward as though her eyes might spot the correct key faster than Ruby. "David and Graham already talked to him."

Both women shot quick looks at Killian, who had stood silent waiting on them to finish. Fear was evident on his face, but his lips were in a perfect straight line and his eyes hooded and hid some of the most abject signs. He had said he wanted to talk to Neal, question the man who had been a thorn in Emma's side for far too long. While Mary Margaret had felt it might be redundant, she had not come up with a better solution to track down mother and son.

It was nearly midnight when they had converged on the bed and breakfast, Killian and Mary Margaret frustrated by the lack of progress being made with other avenues. They had not tried too hard to convince Ruby to help them roust Neal out of his room and answer their questions.

Ruby lifted the key on the numbered ring triumphantly and led the trio up the back staircase toward the room at the end of the hall that had been rented by Neal and his fiancé. Yes, they admitted that David had already threatened and questioned Neal within an inch of his life, but none of them felt totally comfortable that the man knew nothing of Emma and Henry's whereabouts.

Killian's fists were clenched, but it was Ruby that pounded on the door, kicking it with the toe of her shoe for good measure. "Neal? Open up."

The room seemed too silent for a moment until there were thudding footsteps and through the shadows of the barely lit space his face emerged into sight through the now open door. He squinted not out of actual vision problems but as a way to discern which of them to speak to first. He settled on Ruby. "The cops have already been here," he told her flatly. "Didn't find a damn thing or a reason to believe I know anything about where Em or Henry are right now." His fingers curled around the edge of the door and his shoulder came to land on the door frame.

"Done?" Ruby asked, not truly acknowledging his statement. "Because I have questions." She pointed with her thumb at Killian and Mary Margaret. "We have questions."

"It's late," he said, not as much of an excuse but an observation. "Tamara's asleep."

"And you aren't concerned about your son's whereabouts?" Mary Margaret asked, taking a step toward him. She stopped, wrinkling her nose. "You're drinking."

"Not a crime," he countered. "And not unexpected after the day I have had…"

Killian felt the growl rise up out of him as he physically controlled himself from lunging at the man in front of him. He'd never before wanted to draw blood so badly. To see the red against the pallor of Neal's skin was becoming his sole desire. It was hardly poetic, but he felt that desire to harm the man bubbling up in him as though he might be ill, the acidic taste of it burning his throat. Neal's dull eyes turned toward him as though he could read his thoughts. Killian closed his eyes to block out the smirk, hoping it would calm him. "The day you've had," Killian repeated, pausing on each word. "She's bloody well missing with your son and you're complaining about being questioned."

Why Neal laughed, none of them would ever understand. However the sound of it was enough to send Killian forward. His balled fist and knuckles made contact with the unshaven cheek with a combination snap and crack that made Mary Margaret gasp and Ruby give a little grunt of approval.

"What the hell?" Neal asked, staggering back with his hand cradling the point of contact. "I don't know what the fuck she is or why she would run. I couldn't even pick my son out of a lineup, but you people think…"

"Neal?" Tamara's voice was confused from the darkness of the room. "Who's there?"

Lips parted and eyes flitting between the three of them, he spun on his shoeless heel and explained their presence to his fiancé. She appeared behind him, eyes wide as she carefully took them in and then sighed. "He didn't do anything," she said, despite the fact they hadn't asked her. "He's been here with me. We were…we were discussing how to talk to Regina about allowing Henry to come to the wedding. We wanted him there, if he wants."

Mary Margaret's face softened first. "I bet he would…" She stopped under the judgmental stare from Ruby. "That's not really possible unless we find them."

Neal was still staring defiantly at Killian, his voice steady as he repeated what he had told David earlier. "I am supposed to get to meet him this afternoon. I didn't even know that he was with Emma. It never came up in the conversation with Regina."

Ruby nodded, pulling out her phone to text someone without a real explanation. Mary Margaret's eyes turned toward Killian, half expecting him to apologize for throwing the punch. He didn't. Later he would explain that he'd wanted to do that since he had first heard what Neal had done to Emma. A decade ago or not, Killian felt the urge to defend her.

***AAA***

"Is this what it's going to be like from now on?" Hans asked, his arrogant nature shining through. He looked pointedly at Graham and waited for an apology of sorts. It didn't come.

"Have to admit that you would seem a likely suspect," Graham announced, folding one leg so that his ankle rested against the opposite knee. "You've set yourself up with a reputation. A woman goes missing and we will be looking at you."

"You don't seem to be in a rush to find her," Hans countered. It was a weak argument, but obviously the incoming sheriff's nonchalance bothered him. "Don't you worry that I or someone did something to her?"

Graham dusted his fingers over the cuff of his sleeve, tugging at a stray thread. "You're a natural suspect," he said, answering a question that had not been asked. "I think it should be obvious that we would at least ask you when anyone goes missing. How are we to know your motive?"

"I should call my lawyer," the man said, running a shaking hand through his hair. "You're accusing me…"

"I'm just asking if you know where the deputy who helped bust open your involvement with a kidnapping is right now."

Hans shifted in his seat. "I want my lawyer."

"Call him," Graham said, not moving from the seat. "This isn't an interrogation. I was just asking, but your uncooperative nature does give me a bit of pause." He'd picked up this attitude from Emma, who always seemed so in control and almost bored in her interrogations. She would lift her shoulders up to her ears and wave off the frayed nerves of the suspect. It usually got under their skin.

Hans pulled himself up to standing and left the room, hesitating twice before he did. Each time he looked to Graham who appeared to not even notice as he scrolled through his phone. There were messages from David that his father had not been cooperative and that Elsa was retracing Emma's steps from her home.

 **Graham: She can't have just vanished into thin air.**

 **David: We'll find her. I'm going to grab Regina and head over to Mr. Gold.**

 **Graham: He might know something that son of his didn't share.**

 **David: Exactly.**

Graham rearranged himself in his seat and waited on Hans to return, hoping that the man would agree to entertain the questions. He had been right, as there was no evidence to suggest he knew of Emma's whereabouts. The younger brother had not even mentioned Henry's disappearance, which was an indication he did not know any more than he was indicating. However, after the trouble he had caused with Anna and Kristoff's kidnapping, Graham was all too happy to make the man feel uncomfortable at least.

***AAA***

Killian slammed on the brakes of his jeep as the traffic light seemed to jump from green to red without warning, causing his passenger to throw her hands out toward the dash to brace herself for what seemed an unavoidable impact. The wheels spun wildly on the thin layer of ice that had formed. "Sorry," he muttered, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

Her blinking eyes stared at him in horror before calming herself. "Just be careful. We can't find them if you get us in a wreck."

He nodded at the young teacher, apologizing again as he waited to be able to cross the intersection. The two of them had set out on this search only half an hour ago, ignoring David and Regina's orders to stick around and wait. It had seemed impossible to sit in what had felt like an oppressive heat from the fire in his fireplace that he had stoked out of nervousness. So when Mary Margaret suggested retracing her friend's steps, he had the keys in his hands and his jacket hanging off of him before anyone could talk them out of it.

There were no streetlights on the road as they left the city limits and headed along the rural route that Emma had likely taken. The only light other than the headlights was from Mary Margaret's phone that had cast an eerie glow on her skin. "David said that his father and Hans both have alibis. Regina and Robin have gone to the pawn shop with Ruby."

Killian's eyes were scanning the road ahead of him, looking for anything that might offer an explanation as to Emma's location. None of the theories made a bit of sense to him. He knew that Regina's fears that Emma had disappeared with her son were unfounded. It seemed equally unlikely that Spencer Nolan or Hans had done anything. If anyone was a likelier threat to them, it was David. Emma was just on the periphery. That left Neal, who according to Graham had not answered his phone calls. Ruby had informed them that he and Tamera had checked out soon after the meeting with Regina had concluded.

"I doubt that bloody wanker left a forwarding address with his estranged father," Killian said, angrily scanning the road again. Even concentrating as much as he was, he felt Mary Margaret's eyes studying his profile rather than the phone. "I apologize for my language."

Mary Margaret laughed solidly. "I am hardly a nun, Killian. I might not have chosen the vocabulary you did to express it, but he isn't my favorite person in the world right now. Or, well, ever." He might not have known the teacher that long, but that declaration was probably one of the strongest he'd heard from her. The fact that she had admitted it to him meant more to him than she could have guessed, as she was known for her ability to forgive. She seemed to look a bit more kindly on him. "How's your hand?"

"Sore," he admitted, flexing it quickly between steering gestures. "I was trying to be a bigger man there, but I failed."

"If you were one of my students, I'd tell you to use your words," she said with a practiced laugh. "I've told Emma that before. She's been known to punch a few people in the face too, but you're both right. Sometimes people just deserve it." She looked out the window toward the dim lights of what appeared to be a store that they were approaching. "We should stop and get you some ice for that hand."

"I don't want to stop unless we have a reason that will take us to Emma and her boy." His knuckles cracked as he gripped the wheel tighter. "They are the priority."

***AAA***

David grunted a reply to John as he dove into the records that he had procured about his father's whereabouts. The older Nolan had sworn he had nothing to do with Emma's disappearance, but he hardly evoked confidence in what he was saying. So that left the current sheriff to look for a loophole, a sign that the man had done something wrong. Unfortunately Spencer's story appeared to add up at the first glance of the phone records and the log of visitors marked by his security gate.

"Anything on Emma?" John asked. For a larger man, he was quite shy and quiet. His standoffishness was a combination of aloof and scared of interaction.

"Not a damn thing," David muttered to himself, translating the military time on the report to the more standard. "People don't just vanish into thin air."

"It would be a rare occurrence," John answered before clearing his throat. "Sidney called about two hours ago. Wanted to talk to you about the election and the issue with getting your name off the ballot."

The sheriff grimaced. "I don't have time for that."

"I told him as much, but you know how persuasive he is. Just call him back at some point?"

Raking a hand through his hair, David sat back and looked at the vaguely familiar number on the sheet in front of him. "Can you run a number for me? I think I may have found something."

***AAA***

Killian skidded a bit as he wheeled into the narrow parking lot entrance of the restaurant where Emma had called him from earlier that evening. Her car was not in the parking lot, but he knew that it was the best connection he could find for now. There were no other sightings of her or Henry, which meant that whatever had happened had occurred after she and Henry left this place.

Mary Margaret held the door open for him, earning a bemused look at her desire to care for other people. "I'm fine, you know?"

"Just being nice," she responded, before marching to the counter and asking to see the manager. Her dark hair was barely visible under the crocheted hat and her gloved hands were pulling at the knotted scarf around her neck. Killian had not dressed as warmly, the thinness of the leather and the sharpness of the bitter wind were not a good combination.

The manager was a wary looking man who wore part of the daily special on his chef's coat. "I already told the cops that she and the kid were here. They had pizza. She talked on the phone. The kid played video games. They asked about where they could get hot chocolate. And that's it. That's all I remember about them."

Mary Margaret's teacher voice dripped with sweetness. "That's all very helpful," she said with a smile. "Do you know what time they left? Or even what direction?" Her folded arms leaned on the counter as she stared wide eyed at the man. "Anything else you can tell us?"

"Nope," he said, popping the last part of the word. "I don't know a thing."

With a sigh that sounded more like a growl, Killian muttered under his breath, ignoring Mary Margaret for a moment. "Who was their server? Maybe he or she…"

"They were helped at the counter," the man said as if the answer was obvious. "We don't really do the whole service thing." He waved his arm to indicate the state of the restaurant. A few small groups gathered in booths. Customers walked in and placed an order at the counter where they paid and picked up their drinks too. They were called back up to pick up the pizza or other meal.

"And you don't remember anything else?" the teacher prodded. "I know it was probably very busy, but it's important that we find them."

The young brunette at the cash register cleared her throat. "She left her phone."

"What?" Killian and Mary Margaret asked at the same time. All eyes in the vicinity went to the cashier. She appeared nervous, stealing glances at the manager as she reached downward and pulled out the phone.

"I found it on the table when I went to clear it. She left it behind." She licked her lips carefully. "I was going to give it back, but I didn't realize…" She swallowed. "I didn't mean to…"

Without a word, the manager held his hand out to the girl with the palm up and his fingers wiggling to beckon her. She lowered her head as she placed the black phone into his waiting hand and muttered an apology. He half tossed it to Killian with a look that said he was going above and beyond to do that. A quick swipe of the screen revealed that there were dozens of messages from her friends, but most interestingly a message from Neal.

***AAA***

Regina's coifed hair and usually staggering beauty seemed worn and subdued as she walked out of the pawn shop with Robin at her left and Ruby heading into the parking area. She had been strong all day, fighting for her son and what she hoped was best for him. To have to fight for him when she didn't know where he was or if he was safe was something she had not been prepared for as she went through the day. She couldn't help thinking that she should have her son safe at home, fighting over his bed time and telling him that she would DVR what he wanted to watch instead of letting him stay up for it.

"That was a fat waste of time," Ruby muttered, her fists clenched and her breath making clouds in the cold night air. "I'm not feeling very optimistic. I think we've hit dead ends every place we've been to so far."

Robin nodded his head as he checked his phone again. "I realize that this is frustrating, but Emma and Henry are out there some place. John's been checking credit cards. They haven't used one and no hotels or motels on the route have seen anyone matching their descriptions. It's a cold night, ladies. We have to keep searching and find them."

Regina turned the heat up to full blast as the piled into the Mercedes she drove. Hot air blew back their hair and stole their breath. "I realize that nobody wants to talk about this, but Emma is my son's birth mother. Nobody seems to have taken her so that leads me to believe that Ms. Swan has taken my son on her own. She's hiding him from me."

Robin's hand scrambled for the phone that he almost lost to the darkness of the car, but it was Ruby who breathed in sharply, her head peeking between the seats. "You've got to be kidding," she said. "Emma wouldn't do that. She wouldn't hurt Henry by taking him away from everything he knows."

Regina's face appeared as though she had eaten something sour. "Your faith in your friend is admirable, but I don't share it. All I know is that my son is missing after I sent him off with that woman. Nobody seems to know where she is and that leads me to believe…"

"Regina," Robin said in a cross between soothing and warning. "Henry's fine and so is Emma. The fact that they haven't been found is worrisome, but…"

"What's next?" Regina barked impatiently. "I'm not in the mood for a pep talk. I want to find my son."

Certainly sympathetic to her plight, Robin punched on his phone. "Everyone's regrouping at Granny's. It will give us a chance to compare notes."

***AAA***

Elsa nodded at Ruby as the trio joined the others, the brief recognition from a night in a bar seemed so long ago at this point. Her almost white blonde hair was pulled over her shoulder as she sipped on ice water unlike the others who were burning their tongues with coffee and cocoa. David and Graham had taped a map of the surrounding area to the wall of the diner, unworried about customers intruding now that Granny had placed the closed sign in the window.

Killian and Mary Margaret had arrived not long after, reporting sullenly that they had seen no signs of Emma, Henry, or the car on their drive out of town and back. David had given a brief hug to his fiancé, but seemed unsurprised by her lack of new or relevant information.

"We're going to split the area into quadrants and go back out at sunrise," Graham told the group after a quick huddle with David. "They should be find wherever they are currently, but we don't want to risk them out another night in this cold. So at sunrise we hit the streets again. We'll bring them back." It wasn't much of a pep talk, but people didn't seem to be expecting one. Everyone, including Regina, seemed too on edge to bother with anything but nods and cursory glances at the map.

"Some of the other teachers said they'd help in the morning," Mary Margaret reported. "We're calling off classes so people can search." The news was met with a brief bit of murmuring about how nice that gesture seemed to be at the time.

"Same with the staff here," Granny reported, running a rag over the counter. "I'll provide meals for the search teams, but my wait staff and others are getting paid to search tomorrow. No excuses."

Ruby gave a tentative but proud smile to her grandmother, peering down at her phone to read a text from her former roommate Belle French-Gold. The quiet and intelligent woman apologized for her husband's callousness toward the situation and promised that she would help too. Ruby reported this to the group.

"We want to help," a less familiar announced from the entrance to the hallway. Everyone managed to turn and find Tamera standing there. She was dressed in a simple pair of jeans with a long flannel shirt most assumed belong to Neal hanging off of her. A black vest complimented the outfit. Her hair was flattened straight and hung about her like a cloak.

Killian was the first to notice a sheepish but complying Neal behind her. His left hand was shoved into his pocket and his right arm was wound around his fiancé's waist. Without bothering to make eye contact with anyone, he waited like he wanted to be welcomed and greeted. "I thought you didn't know where they were," Killian said harshly. "Was that a lie?"

Tamara looked to Neal, her eyes persuasive. "Tell them what you told me."

"Emma's cell phone," he said with a shrug of his shoulders that barely lifted them. "I have sort of been tracking her after I found out about Henry. I wasn't stalking her. I just wanted to see my son. So I thought maybe if I could find her then I would get that chance."

Killian's face went pale, the weight of the phone in his pocket feeling even heavier. He could not stop himself from lurching forward, his hand connecting with the other man's defiant jaw again. This time there were no gasps, as even David's love of the law could not find fault with the anger bubbling inside. He did not approach until Neal was doubled over and clutching the already swollen side of his face and Killian was giving his unfurled fist a good shake. David stood between the two men in a halfhearted attempt to hold them each back from the other.

"I can try and track her down," Neal said as though he was doing some huge favor. "It'll just take a minute." With one hand on his jaw, he attempted to right his phone.

"Fat lot of good it will do you," David said pointblank. "Emma doesn't have her phone with her. It's here."

Killian's eyes shut, unable to discern between his fear of what this man had done or the fact that they were again hitting a dead end. His own hand dug into his pocket to touch the cold phone that had been Emma's lifeline. Had she realized she had left it? Did she try to go back for it? What had stopped her?

Regina's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Can you do that with just any phone?" she asked, waving her hand as if to demonstrate what she meant. "Can you do that with my son's phone?"

Robin took a step toward Regina. "I thought you had decided to have him wait for a phone. You told him that he was too young."

A strange look came over the mayor as she folded her arms over her abdomen. "He's good at persuading me if he really wants something. I got it for safety reasons. He's supposed to leave it off unless he needs to reach me." Many of those in attendance might have been amused by the mayor's uncharacteristically flustered state, but tensions were high enough with the missing mother and son. She turned her attention back to the sulking Neal. "Can you track him with his phone? Even if it is off?"

"I think so," he said, not very convincingly. "I've never tried it."


	27. Chapter 27

David's truck skidded to a stop on the side of the two lane road, kicking up a spray of gravel from where the pavement had worn away. The drive to the location about 15 miles outside of Storybrooke was almost entirely silent with Killian riding in the passenger seat silently and Neal in the middle staring at his phone as though it might offer more than a vague dot of where Henry's phone occasionally emitted a signal.

"There's not a bloody thing out there," Killian said, breaking the silence as David unfastened his seatbelt and cut the engine on the truck.

"Flashlights are in the box in the back. Radios too. Nobody go too far without contacting the others." David's door opened, letting in the cold air that only compounded when Killian opened the passenger door. There was an unsure moment as Neal looked between the two doors to decide which side to slide out on into the night.

David tossed both men a radio before calling into talk to Robin, Graham and Ruby who were all up the road a piece. It was unusual, David thought, to have three law enforcement professionals and three civilians searching for missing people. Back in Storybrooke there were more, as Regina and Mary Margaret made calls to hospitals. Elsa and Anna were scanning lists of shops, garages, and gas stations. Tamera was helping Granny to put word out to the local media as they prepped food for all the teams in case the searching took much longer.

"We've got the North and East quads. You've got the South and West. Check in with me in 15?" Graham's accent seemed stronger in times of stress.

"Copy that," David answered, shooting the beam of the light toward a clump of trees. A hub cap from some sporty car reflected brightly. Quickly he moved the light into another direction, catching sight of Killian and Neal pushing through the thick and nearly bare branches. For one moment it appeared that Killian might let one of the branches snap back onto Neal, but he restrained himself and motioned mockingly for the other man to walk ahead. David shook his head, knowing he probably would have let the man suffer a bit more.

***AAA***

Mary Margaret pinched the bridge of her nose as she took a breath from staring at the list that she had printed out of the local hospitals and 24-hour clinics. None had admitted or treated a woman or her son over the past few hours. That news had left Regina reeling with ideas that perhaps she was not wrong to be suspicious.

"Emma wouldn't do that. I've known her for a long time. She's not that kind of person."

"She's disappeared whether through her own volition or through foul play," Regina stated again. "I don't much care which at the moment except that she has my son with her."

The teacher almost reminded her that Henry was Emma's son too, but it was not the time or place. Clearly, despite Regina's hard exterior, the woman was worried about her little boy. She was concerned that her decision to trust Emma had blown up in her face, blaming herself for the decision that had put her son in danger. "He's fine. They will find them. I know it."

Tamera delivered two cups of coffee to the women, smiling tentatively. "Any luck?" she asked.

"Not a bit of good," Regina answered, holding the cup just an inch or so from her lips. "I suppose we are relying on your fiancé and his ability to stalk my son through the use of a cell phone. That's comforting."

The man's fiancé was hesitant as she slid herself into a seat at the table, her long hair pulled back tightly and her dark eyes blinking back what Mary Margaret imagined were tears threatening to fall. "He's not a bad man," she said shakily. "I know you don't want to hear that. Not after how he's tried to contact Henry without your permission and how he's threatened to take you to court."

"I'm not impressed with him so far," Regina spat before taking a long sip.

"He's…he's different than he used to be. He may have been legally an adult when he was with Emma, but he wasn't really ready for any of it. He wasn't ready for the responsibilities and the pressure that came with it. He was just trying to prove himself and prove his father wrong." She paused, looking down at her own empty hands and probably wishing she had gotten herself a drink too. "He didn't know Emma was pregnant. It's not an excuse. He shouldn't have let her take the blame for everything. He does regret it."

"A heart of gold," the mayor sneered. "Forgive me, Ms…"

"Tamera," she finished. "Just call me Tamera."

Huffing a bit at the informality of it, Regina grumbled a . "Forgive me, Tamera, but I don't think that his having daddy issues is any excuse for what he did to Emma or to Henry. He not only abandoned her, but he had her take the punishment for what he did. He ran away from his responsibilities in both respects. I'm not even counting his actions toward a son he didn't know existed or the fact that he abandoned his father."

Giving the mayor and teacher a barely perceptible nod of agreement. "I'm not condoning it," she explained, avoiding their incredulous stares. "I'm saying he's different now. He's not that person anymore."

"Yes," Regina said in that sickeningly sweet tone she used when she was being sarcastically agreeable. "I'm sure he's a saint now. That's what saints do now, isn't it? They stalk their ex's with GPS and God knows what else. So impressive. So endearing."

Tamera's jaw dropped slightly as she prepared to say something back. However, the words seemed to get caught in her throat. Giving a feeble smile to Mary Margaret, she slipped back toward the kitchen and busied herself with the assembly line of breakfast sandwiches that Granny was setting up for the team.

***AAA***

Killian wondered if his heartbeat would ever be the same. As he made his way along the side of the road, gravel crunching under his boots, he realized that his heart had been failing to beat properly since he first saw Emma in that bar. She had seemed like a cross between an angry tyrant and a delicate flower sitting there shoving off free drinks and drunken flirtations. Even in her attempts to relegate him to the same rejected fate, she had let her eyes connect with his and revealed a hint of the woman underneath that armor she wore so well.

His heart had skipped a beat when she first smiled in his direction, again when she had asked him to play along as her date in front of Ruby. Her laugh made his chest stutter, as did the light touch of her hand on his skin. Kissing her had not lessened the effect on him, even after it became more common. He'd felt pain in his chest when she was upset. And felt pride when she had opened herself up to let her son into her life. It had flipped in his chest when he told her he loved her, seeing the surprise, fear, and hope in her wanting expression. And he knew that if she ever chose to say it back to him that he might just feel his heart beat out of his chest.

However, traipsing along the side of the road and searching amongst the rocks and trees for a sign of her had his heart reacting in other ways. There was the fear when he thought he saw something, the disappointment when he didn't, and gnawing feeling that he was missing something. His heart fluctuated between his throat and the pit of his stomach.

"She still looks the same, you know?" Neal asked, his lanky form leaning on a tree as he again checked the phone. "She's tougher now. Smarter too, but when I saw her I remembered the first time we met."

"I don't care to hear this," Killian said, his free hand touching his pocket again to feel the phone. It was a strange talisman, but one that brought at least some feeling of connection to her.

"Didn't figure you would," Neal answered. He sighed in resignation as he shoved the phone into his pocket. "Signal hasn't moved at all. His phone isn't on, but every once in a while there is a signal from the tracking device."

"It's a bloody marvel," Killian muttered in return. He wasn't sure if Neal was making small talk or asking for a congratulatory message in return for his abilities. "We haven't looked over here yet." He indicated a different area with the flashlight and stomped over toward it.

"David's good at finding people. Emma too, but I think she learned from him. It's not just the sheriff thing. He's just naturally good at it."

Killian didn't doubt David's abilities, as he heard the same assessment from Emma. However, he wouldn't mind a little proof at the moment.

Neal skipped a step or two, catching up with Killian and walking along side of him. His flashlight shone on one side of the road as Killian's did on the other. "How'd you two meet, anyway? Party or something? Mary Margaret set you guys up on a blind date?"

***AAA***

The drop off on the side of the road was steep and David's steps stuttered as he lowered himself down the edge of it. He hadn't seen anything on his first glance, but the trees were spaced enough at one end that a car could fit through them. His gloved hand caught himself on the trunk of a tree, clinging to it as he replaced his flashlight with the radio to answer Graham's call.

"Nothing yet," he transmitted. "Still looking."

"Any word from your other two?" Graham asked.

"Negative. Killian may have killed Neal or tied him to a tree some place. Hard to tell." The radio crackled as he transmitted the message.

"Arrest one of them if you have to."

"10-4," David said with a slight chuckle. It had not been an ideal situation to have Neal and Killian together, but David had hoped they would be mature enough to handle the situation. All thoughts of that left his mind when the glint of a bumper reflected into his eye.

Lurching forward, David half ran and half stumbled down the incline without regard for the rocks and roots that marred his path. "Emma!" he called out at least three times as the yellow Bug came into view. His hand was inches from the door handle when he heard her reply.

"David?"

Swallowing hard, he yanked at the door until it opened and revealed her to him. She was curling her arms around herself and blinking owlishly toward the beam of his flashlight. "Emma, are you okay?"

She nodded her head erratically, gesturing with her chin toward the crumpled front of her car. "I'm fine. Henry's…he hit his head on the windshield. He's been in and out of consciousness. I don't know how long. He's still…He's breathing and doesn't seem to be in much pain, but…"

David nodded, shifting the light toward the passenger seat where the boy appeared to be nothing more than asleep under his mother's coat. She had wrapped him up as best she could against the bitter cold. "I'll call for some help, but you? You're okay?"

She gave him a watery smile, allowing her eyes to close briefly as if she hadn't dared to so much as do so before. "My leg's caught under the dash," she explained. "I don't think it's broken, but I can't get out. And I think I must have left my phone at the pizza place or the gas station." She wrapped her arms tighter. "It was warmer with the door shut."

"Such a princess," David teased, wrenching off his own coat before radioing the others. He instructed Killian and Neal to call for medical assistance and informed them to bring blankets and the tool kit from the truck before they headed down. He called Graham next to inform them of the location.

"You called out the cavalry," Emma remarked in her best attempt levity. David had climbed around to the other side of the car and after a bit of fighting with the door figuring out that Emma could roll down the window. His hand was searching out for Henry's pulse. Letting out a sigh of relief when he both found it to be strong and saw the lights of both Killian and Neal approaching. He couldn't help his own relief when he watched Killian use his own jacket to cover Emma and then place a blanket on top. He couldn't hear what was being said, but he was glad to see the exchange.

Neal slipped and slid his way toward where Henry was, the man's breath catching at his first up close sight of his son. Offering a reassuring nod to the man, David straightened himself up to standing and made contact with Graham again.

"How long have you been down here?" Killian asked, enveloping Emma's hands in his own and rubbing them vigorously.

"After the pizza place we stopped for gas," Emma said, her voice not as strong as normal but less shaky. "I realized a few miles down the road that I had left my phone, but I didn't know where. So I was making a u-turn when I hit a patch of ice and skidded off the road. We came to a stop here between these trees." She shivered slightly. "How did you even find us?"

His blue eyes closed, Killian resembled a man in prayer as he leaned forward to blow warm air onto her exposed skin. Neal's voice was soft as he said something to Henry, wrapping the other blanket around the boy and tucking it in as if putting a child to be for the night. "That would be Neal, love," he said with a slight hitch in his voice. "Neal was trying to track you by your phone, but once we found it we realized that was of no use. So we tracked you with your boy's phone."

Emma turned her head with some effort to stare at Neal and then back to Killian. "Henry has a phone?"

"Aye," Killian said, sliding her gloves back onto her warmed hands. "I imagine it must be in his bag. Regina said she only recently bought it for him. David drove us to the area where the signal indicated. He's been quite the professional despite the two of us prating about like a bunch of gits. Thankfully he found you and your boy."

Upon hearing David clearing his throat and waving a metal bar in his hands, Killian leaned in and kissed her temple lightly. "I believe the sheriff would like to get you freed, love. Why don't I let him get to it and we'll have you and your boy back at roadside before the ambulance arrives?"

***AAA***

Killian's prediction that they would be up to the roadside was a bit of wishful thinking, but David was able to pass Henry through Emma's side of the car and into Neal's waiting arms so that he was ready for the paramedics to attend to immediately. With Killian's help, he freed Emma's leg and ignored her protests as Killian carried her up the embankment just as Neal had done with Henry.

"I'm a grown woman and I'm perfectly capable…" she said doggedly, despite winding her arms around Killian's neck as he kept one arm on her back and the other under her knees.

"You are more than capable, my love," Killian told her with a mix of affection and his own stubbornness. "But indulge me, please. I have been left holding nothing but your phone. I would much rather hold you."

Even in the harsh lights of the rescue lamps and flashlights, David and Killian could see the slight pinkness of Emma's complexion. Her blush not matching her eye roll at his cheesy statement. "Don't drop me," she bantered back, acquiescing to his attempt to hold her.

By the time David made it up the hill and spoke to the paramedics, he was rolling his own eyes at Emma's protests that she wanted to accompany her son and not be treated. She was just as stubborn as ever as she clung to Killian's arm, the poor man left to a kneeling position in order to hold her as the paramedics ignored her not so polite quips that they were not doing their jobs properly.

"They are trying to make sure you're fit and well, love," he said, his mouth hidden as he rested kisses onto the crown of her head. "Your boy is in good hands."

"They should be working on him," she protested, nearly kicking the young EMT who was attempting to take her blood pressure. "He's the one who hit his head."

"They are, love," Killian said soothingly. "Your boy is just in that ambulance there. Neal's with him and Regina's meeting us all at the hospital. Now be a good girl…"

David let out a chuckle as he remembered his own mother saying a similar phrase to Emma when she had hurt herself playing basketball. Emma had screamed at the antiseptic spray hitting her skin in such a way that Ruth had worried the neighbors would complain. She'd told her to be a good girl and not scare the world over a simple scrape.

"You never were much for medical attention," David said, adjusting the blanket over her shoulders. She had not noticed yet that Killian was still without a coat, as she would have been protesting loudly about that. "You never change."

Emma's eyes were glassy from unshed tears as she looked up at him. "Henry's going to be okay, right? You're going to check on him?"

Nodding his head, she stooped down on the other side of her. "I will, Emma. You'll be able to see him too once you let these men and women do their job and treat you."

She sighed heavily as Killian and David exchanged a look over her head. "Fine, treat me," she said. With that single sentiment, she threw out her arm to check her blood pressure and even stuck out her tongue to allow one of them to check her throat.

***AAA***

As promised, Emma was able to check in on Henry before being sent to x-ray to see about her leg and other injuries. He was still sleeping, but the doctor promised that he should be waking up soon. The IV's and other medications would make him groggy, but his injuries were minor and he should be fine. That news was enough to calm Emma slightly. She didn't protest the rest of her own tests and soon found herself in a private room waiting for her as the tests were analyzed.

Ruby and Mary Margaret shared a chair in Emma's room with Ruby evaluating the physical attractiveness of each and every male medical professional who entered the room, walked by the open door or appeared on the infomercial style programs looping on the television.

"I just said that white isn't his color," Ruby protested in a quiet but forceful tone. "He should go with something more like earth tones."

"He's a doctor," Mary Margaret said dubiously. "The white coat is part of the job. I'm guessing you didn't notice the wedding ring."

"Accessories on a man can be gauche." Ruby grinned mischievously. "Maybe I need to look for a man with a better uniform." She all but winked at Graham who nervously cleared his throat and informed the room he was going to go check in back with everyone left in Storybrooke.

Emma wiggled her toes under the thin blanket on the bed, surrounded by Killian, Elsa, and David. "You guys are doing nothing for my reputation as a loner." She laughed as she leaned her temple against Killian's shoulder and her cheek rubbing against the flannel material of his shirt. "But I suppose I owe you all a thank you. God knows how long Henry and I would have been down there if you hadn't looked for me."

"I'm not sure my measly contribution is anything more than payback for finding my sister," Elsa said. "Anyway, it these guys doing the searching."

"And David doing the finding," Killian said contritely. He smiled at David who shook his head.

"You didn't really think I was going to let you stay lost," David said, affectionately pushing back a few strands of her hair. "And on a purely selfish note, it felt damn good to do something good for a change without worrying about how it would affect my performance in the election."

Emma reached out her hand to grasp his. "Does that mean you're planning to stay at the station? We'll still work together?"

David smiled tentatively. "I spoke with Graham about it while you were in x-ray. He said he would be glad to have me on board."

Yawning, she squeezed his hand. "Good. Then you can take the holiday shift this year. I hate being on turkey and ham patrol."

"We'll talk about it," David chuckled. "Mary Margaret may have me too busy with wedding plans. And…" He shot a look back at his fiancé. "See, we've moved up the date on the wedding."

Emma's eyelids were heavy and she struggled to focus on her foster brother and current supervisor. "I'm sure there must be a good reason," she said drowsily.

The nervous titter of the teacher's laugh grew louder as Mary Margaret rose from her seat to stand beside David. "Well, fitting into my mother's wedding dress is the reason," she said, placing her hands delicately in front of her stomach. "See in a few months I won't be able to fit it even if I let it out all the way."

With a quick glance at Emma to gauge her comprehension, Killian smiled to the couple and said a muted congratulations as Elsa giggled. "Wait…" Emma said, lifting her head and looking at each of her visitors in turn. She finally settled her green eyes on Mary Margaret. "You're pregnant?"

The teacher nodded her head, wrapping one arm around David and keeping her other hand over her stomach. "I'm not trying to be old fashioned and say I have to get married before I'm showing. I've just always dreamed of wearing my mother's wedding dress. So we're going to do this in December."

Emma threw her arms open with uncharacteristically cheerful vigor, waving her hands until she could get the couple to lean in and embrace her. "This is so great," she said over their shoulders. "I'm going to be Aunt Emma."

 ** _Thoughts?_**

 ** _I didn't want to leave it with Emma and Henry missing this week while I work on school assignments. So I gave you a short, but hopefully nice chapter to tide readers over._**


	28. Chapter 28

**_One more short chapter since I should be writing my proposal for class and can't come up with an idea. Keep the comments and ideas coming. They keep me motivated. This chapter is a little dialogue heavy, but all needed to be said._**

Emma's patience only lasted a short while as she waited for the test results and peppered David and Mary Margaret with questions about the upcoming wedding, the baby, and why on earth she was just now hearing about it. A few short words with a nurse later, including a moment when she sent Killian to drag a doctor – any doctor – back to her room, she was told that there were no broken bones and no severe injuries to impede her recovery though she would need to stay a bit longer given how long she had been exposed to the elements. A few comments about the unflattering hospital gown and she was in a set of clothes that Ruby went out and bought for her.

"They aren't high fashion, but I gather you're not too concerned with that," the dark haired woman declared. In the plastic bag was a pair of sweat pants with paw prints on the butt and matching sweat shirt with a picture of Snoopy. Ruby stood with hands on her hips and her chin jutted out defiantly.

"What did I do?" Emma asked, holding the fleece outfit out from her body as though it might be contagious.

"You're going to be the maid of honor at the wedding," Ruby said, huffing indignantly. "I wanted to do that, but I can't really say, 'hey choose me and not the chick in the hospital bed.'"

Emma sighed, letting the offending outfit drop to her lap. "I'm sorry, Ruby," she said. "I just got so excited with their news that I didn't think. I guess I never imagined that you would want to be the maid of honor. It's kind of traditional and you're more of a rebel."

Ruby frowned, her red lips pursed delicately and her forehead lined with the effort of the conversation. "It's not the job exactly," she said, scooting onto the foot of the hospital bed. Her long legs did not dangle off the edge like most women, leaving her feet firmly planted on the ground. "It's always been the three of us. You and I would go out and party it up a bit. And you and she would have quiet nights watching movies and eating popcorn. You and Mary Margaret are good friends. I guess I just got jealous that she didn't even pretend like it was a big decision. You were the automatic choice." Her long fingers tugged at the hem of her skirt. "It'll happen again when you get married. She'll be yours. And I'll be on the outside."

Ignoring the comment about her marrying someone – presumably Killian – and focusing on the hurt woman in front of her, Emma's frown matched her friend's. "Ruby, I'm so sorry. Let's talk to Mary Margaret. Maybe we can both…or maybe you can…" The blonde's mind rushed through possibilities for ways to fix the problem. She had not even realized how important it was, even when David had playfully joked that he was considering asking her to be the best man.

"I'm not wanting a pity invitation."

"It's not. I know that Mary Margaret wants you in the wedding. So why don't we end this stupid madness and deal with it. You be her attendant and I'll be David's. That way we both have to be humiliated by bad dresses and standing up in front of everyone while we wear them."

Ruby chortled at the idea of pink taffeta. "You're such a sap. Nobody would believe it, but thank you."

Emma watched her friend for a moment, amazed at the softness and fear on her face. Vulnerable was not a word she associated with Ruby, but that was the perfect one at the moment. "Ruby, you are just as close of a friend to Mary Margaret as I am. You shouldn't doubt that. You and Mary Margaret are like my sisters to me. Well, at least what I imagine what sisters would be like."

Ruby's smile was not quite as dazzling as it usually was, but she managed to lift her chin a bit. "You do realize that none of the three of us have sisters. We're all only children…or at least that is what we assume."

It wasn't something that the three friends tried to discuss or even considered very often, but their lives were remarkably the same for all their differences. Emma had been abandoned at birth. Ruby was raised by her grandmother, having only met her mother one time that she could remember. Mary Margaret's childhood had been a Norman Rockwell painting until her mother had died after a sudden illness and her father followed not long after. The three women lacked true family other than Emma's connections to Ruth and David and Ruby's to Granny. They had created their own family of sorts from their friendship.

"It's not about blood," Ruby was known to say. "It's about the love we have for each other."

Reluctantly, Emma lifted the outfit that Ruby had bought in a passive aggressive snit. She unfurled the soft fleece shirt as if it was a flag and began to tug at the strings of the hospital gown. "Come on," she said. "If you're going to punish me by making me wear this, you can at least help me put it on."

Up to the task, Ruby pulled and prodded until Emma was ready to go. "I thought Killian would be here," she said, throwing the hospital gown on a spare chair as Emma made sure her IV port was covered. "He's always around."

"Work," Emma answered easily. "I can't have everyone stopping their lives because I spun out on some ice."

Ruby thoughtfully adjusted Emma's sleeve. "You must have said something to get him to go. He's a bit attached to you, if you hadn't noticed."

"We're just…"

"Oh I don't want or need a report. You're not Mary Margaret. You're not going to gush and tell me how wonderful he is at everything. I thank you for that. I just…Emma, don't take this the wrong way, but just hear me out. It's obvious that this guy cares a lot about you. I know that scares you. You're probably wondering how or why. Every time a guy shows interest in you beyond a one night stand, you do this. You freak out because you think that there must be something wrong with him or that he's up to something bad. I don't think…"

Emma's pale complexion turned pink. "I'm trying, okay? He might kind of like me. How is that?"

"A huge admission from you," her friend laughed, melting into a warm smile. "And you maybe like him, a little?" Her fingers made a gesture to indicate a small amount.

Emma sighed, wishing that she was on her own couch with a beer in her hand or a glass or wine. This was a conversation she'd rather have in that comfort. But still, it seemed to be a bit much for her at the moment. "If you want me to say I love him, you're not going to hear it. I can't say it. I can't say it to you before I say it to him."

Ruby nodded. "Mary Margaret's probably better to bounce it off of, but I'm going to try. What's the worst that can happen if you tell him? He laughs? He says thank you? He says he loves you too?"

"He runs away and leaves me broken and wishing I was dead?"

The brunette pretended to think about it. "Someday…one day…you're going to realize that people don't always run away. You are lovable, Emma."

Her first reaction was to scoff, pretend that the words her friend said weren't biting at her like an animal attempting to devour a large meal. "Ruby…"

"No," Ruby said more adamantly. She jumped to her feet, pulling Emma up with her. "You are lovable, Emma. And I should have told you that before. You're my friend. My sister, really. I should have told you that you are loveable. Someone should have said you weren't this broken down doll who was meant for a life of loneliness and pain. You're meant for more. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry that nobody seems to have made you believe that."

"Ruby, I don't need pep talks." Emma said, shifting on the bed uncomfortably. "We don't have to do this thing where you tell me I'm good enough, smart enough, and…"

"And people like you, I get it," Ruby said with a laugh. "No, Emma, you don't need a pep talk, but you do need someone to remind you that good things happen to good people. You are a good person." Emma looked away, but Ruby was unwilling to let her avoid eye contact and ducked her own lanky form in that direction. "You are. You've overcome the crappiest of childhoods. You fought back to have an awesome career after that jerk left you to be arrested. Your son came back into your life and you've faced that head on. One of the two most powerful men in this town painted a target on your back. You didn't crumble."

"I appreciate the ego boost, but I really want to go see my son," Emma said, looking stern yet blushing at the compliments.

"Just a minute," Ruby insisted. "Emma, I know that you are always expecting the worst to happen. You expect the guy to leave you in jail. You expect people to disappear and abandon you. You expect to be blamed. You expect the worst. All of us do it to some degree, but Emma. Sometimes the worst won't happen. Sometimes good things will happen for you and to you. I think meeting me and Mary Margaret was a good thing. David, Ruth, Granny, Robin, John, Graham…all good things. And Killian seems to be a really good thing for you too. So don't put off or ignore how you feel just because you think that the universe is somehow going to decide that you having a great guy in your life is some cosmic mistake."

Worrying her lip between her teeth, Emma resisted a smile. "When did you get to be so smart?"

"I hide it behind stilettos and impeccable, avant-garde fashion sense," she said with a shrug. "Nothing is more dangerous than a woman you underestimate."

***AAA***

Emma felt like the distance between her room and Henry's room was the deepest chasm she had ever crossed, her feet dragging along the tiled floor in a pair of hospital socks with the rubber soles. She was wearing that awful outfit that Ruby had found her, telling her friend that she would not delay seeing her son any longer over a fashion statement.

Approaching the young boy's room, she could see a small group gathered there through the open door. Regina was sitting in the larger chair by his bed. Even in such a setting she appeared ready to lead a city or large corporation. Holding an iPad, she was scanning through the latest emails and jiggling her foot that hung in midair from the way she had crossed her legs. The chair next to her was empty, but she could see where Robin had left his favorite magazine and would probably be back later after he checked in at work and with his son.

Emma was part way through the door when she saw Neal's sleeping form on the other side of the bed. Using his coat as a blanket, he was sleeping open mouthed with his head toward the wall and some generic picture of a field of flowers that Emma supposed made the room look a bit cheerier. Ignoring the sick feeling in her stomach at seeing Henry's father in the room with him, Emma turned her eyes to her son.

"He's just sleeping," Regina said with a tight and strained tone. "He's…he's just resting."

Emma nodded, standing awkwardly a few feet from the foot of the bed. She wasn't sure if it was on purpose or not, but there seemed to be a line drawn down the center of the room. Birth parents on one side and adoptive family on the other. While she knew she wasn't on par with Regina, the thought of aligning herself with Neal felt even more awkward.

Regina lowered her tablet with a grimace of annoyance playing on her lips. "You seem to be doing better."

Emma's eyes focused on the bandage just beside Henry's temple and the purplish bruise that had formed near the tape holding the IV in place. Though everyone had assured her when she was captive in her room that Henry was fine, Emma wasn't sure that she believed it as his skin seemed as pale as the thin white sheets and the machines monitoring his vital signs hissed and groaned intermittently.

"I'm sorry, Regina," she said, still not taking a step forward or removing her eyes from the child. "I never meant…"

The intake of breath from Regina was harsh as the mayor breathed in through her nose. "I was not planning to blame you for your car skidding on some ice, Ms. Swan. It was an accident. And despite my tendency to see the worst in people and mock their intentions, I have no doubt that you were not planning to send my son and yourself careening off an embankment."

Her fists curling around the too long sleeves of her sweatshirt, Emma gave Regina a small smile. "I'm sorry I didn't do a better job protecting him. I should have…"

Regina shifted in her seat, placing the tablet on the arm to rest. She tilted her head toward the chair that Emma was sure had been Robin's spot. "Have a seat," she said. "Let's go ahead and clear the air here." She waited as Emma wordlessly sat in the vinyl chair and tried to look comfortable. "Did you know that Henry started walking when he was 11 months old? He had been crawling for a little while and one day he just pulled himself up and took off. There wasn't any practice or any warning. He just started trotting around the room as if he had always been able to do it."

Wistfully, Emma glanced back at her sleeping son. She tried to imagine him as a smiling and chubby cheeked toddler. "It was right before the Mining Days celebration and I was in the kitchen making apple tarts for the baking booth. I was proud of him of course, but I was also frustrated that he decided to have this milestone on a day when I was baking, dealing with a broken water main on 10th street, and needed to prepare a proposal for a grant application."

Emma chewed at her lip. "It must be hard being a single mom with all your responsibilities."

"He was always a happy baby. He never cried after the first few weeks unless he really needed something. But that day, Emma, he was wanting all my attention. I snapped at him. I just needed a moment…a break from all the different pressures that were pulling me in 50 different directions." She paused again and waited on Emma to nod in understanding. "I had just turned my back for a minute. It wasn't even a full 60 seconds. I was trying to get the canister of sugar when…when I heard Henry scream. I don't know how he did it but he pulled the towel that was hanging off of the counter and the whole bowl of batter came tumbling down. It missed his head, but the weight of it landed on his foot."

Emma looking worriedly at the mayor, her eyes imploring the woman to continue. "But he was alright? He didn't get too hurt."

"Just bruised, really," Regina said, shooting an affectionate look toward the boy. "His right foot. The doctor said he was fine, but he quit walking for a few more weeks. Must have scared him. It scared me to. See, I had been living my life and fitting Henry into it. I wanted a son, but I wanted my life. I didn't know that I would have to choose a way to balance that. When he was a baby it was easy. He slept. He ate. He cried. I had a nanny taking care of him. I came home and spent an hour or two and then he was asleep. But that day I realized he wasn't just a baby. He was a real little person. And I couldn't ignore my son because of my job or my ego. I had to be both the mayor and a mom."

"I'm sure it was hard," Emma said softly. "I am glad you shared that, but I don't know what that has to do with my driving and losing control on ice."

Regina's laugh was a bit easier than Emma imagined it would be, less condescending and more amused. "It was that day that I realized I wasn't going to be a perfect mom. There's no such thing. And for some reason…whatever reason…you and this state and a social worker decided that I was ready to be Henry's mom because you weren't yet. So now you are having to learn the same lesson. Emma, you're his mother too. And you showed that you do love and care about him. They said you were freezing trying to keep him warm. They said that you insisted that he be taken care of before you. And that, Emma, is part of being a mom. It is something that comes natural to you."

Emma ducked her chin slightly. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I know that we agreed that…"

"We agreed to do what is best for Henry," Regina said. "He wants you around. And I can accept that. I can understand." Her nose wrinkled slightly. "It doesn't mean I like it, Ms. Swan, but I don't want my son to suffer because I'm too selfish. And we both know that would happen. Maybe not yet, but someday. Someday he would come to you just to get away from me."

"I don't want to come between you and Henry. I never meant for this," she pointed at the sleeping child and his biological father, "to happen this way. I was young. I was scared. And I made the best decision I could to give him the best chance at a good future. You stepped up where I couldn't. You shouldn't feel punished for that."

The mayor's blazer covered shoulders lifted toward her ears. "Don't do that. Don't try to make my adopting Henry more than it is supposed to be. I was alone. I wanted a family. I felt that adoption was a good solution for me. It wasn't altruistic in the least."

Henry's arm without the IV was curled back behind his head, his body almost diagonal in the narrow bed. It was the way that Emma was used to sleeping, a tradition she had started back in her foster care days. "I'm not looking to argue with you over whether you did it for selfish or selfless reasons. I think there is truth in both those ideas."

"I'm glad we agree," Regina answered, her stiff responses still indicating her discomfort. "You see, I think maybe I was looking at this the wrong way. I was and am so worried that he would care about you or his father more than me that I wanted to believe it was wrong or bad for you to be in his life. The truth is that it isn't wrong. You and Neal love Henry. And that can only be a good thing."

The two women sat quietly, each lost in their own thoughts. It was Emma who spoke first. "So how do we do this? How do we make this work?"

"I don't know," Regina said with a sigh. "I guess we just see what feels right."

***AAA***

Emma was reluctant to admit that she felt tired after only walking down the hall to the other wing to see Henry, but the exhaustion was evident on her face. Waving off the offer of a wheelchair or other assistance, she dragged herself down the hall and past the nurses' station where she tried to ignore the judgmental looks that were either about her outfit choice or the fact that she had walked and not ridden in the required wheelchair. Retreating to the sanctuary of her room, Emma shook her head at Killian's pointed stare.

"Imagine my surprise to come to see you and find your bed empty," he said, his tongue clicking the roof of his mouth. "You're a patient, love. You shouldn't be traipsing around the hospital like a visitor."

Emma frowned, her arms crossed over the scratchy material of Snoopy embroidered on her chest. "Shouldn't you be at work?"

"You're deflecting," he teased further, folding back the covers on the bed she was supposed to occupy. "Come be a good girl and get some rest, love. The doctor might be more willing to see to your release."

If she wasn't so tired, she might have fought harder. As it was, the bed looked almost comfortable. She let him help her into the bed, waiting until he was pulling the cover up over her legs before she grabbed ahold of the back of his head and pulled his mouth down to hers. His gasp of surprise was so adorable that she had to swallow back her own laughter in her efforts to continue the kiss.

He pulled back only a fraction, his eyes darker than normal and his skin flushed from the surprise and the intensity of her gesture. "You aren't acting like you're sick or injured."

"Because I'm fine," she said. "They are just keeping me here to drive me crazy. My leg was caught, but that was mostly my pants and not my actual leg. I was dehydrated and my body temp was low. I'm fine now."

His knuckles brushed over the peak of her cheek bones. "You say that like it's nothing, darling. You forget how worried…"

She silenced him with a finger over his lips. "I'm fine. I…I wasn't going to say something right now, but I think I might as well." His brow knitted together in question as he caught her wrist and kissed the pad of her finger before removing the impediment of his mouth.

"Please continue," he said, lowering himself to the arm of the chair beside the bed with her wrist still in his hand.

"I had some time to think while I was sitting there wondering how I was going to get Henry out of there. I…I was scared that nobody would come in time. But I knew that you and David wouldn't give up."

His lips formed a toothless and tight smile, adding to the slight shake of his head. "I wish I could take credit for that. But it was David who found you. I may have been a bit of a deterrent to the search at times." She looked at him so curiously that he continued. "I became angry at Neal, something that has been building since I first learned of your past with him. I let that boil over and ended up punching him – twice."

"Twice?" she asked, disbelief evident. "You hit him twice?"

"Aye," he said, letting his eyes leave hers as he looked downward. "I could say I was defending your honor, but I doubt you'd believe that. I was merely agitated that he was so cavalier about you and Henry. That said, he proved himself to be quite valuable to the search. I believe I probably owe him an apology, as it was him who thought to use the tracking device to locate you and your boy."

She shook her head, a few of the golden curls freeing themselves from her ponytail. "I'm probably going to need more of an explanation, but for now I'm going to say thank you. Whether you found me yourself or with David's leadership, I'm going to appreciate that you were there." She sighed a bit, even surprising herself with the contentedness as he kissed the back of her hand softly.

"I believe we have gotten off track. You were going to say something before we began throwing credit for your rescue around." He scooted a bit closer. "Would you rather tell me later? You look quite tired."

"I…I want to say this. I need to…" She practically growled as the doorway darkened with the form of a nurse there to check her vitals. Her head fell back against the white pillow. "The universe is conspiring against me."

The nurse's pinched features appeared both concerned and confused by Emma's reaction, but she didn't question the apparent reluctance. Instead she hurriedly completed her tasks, ignoring Killian's friendly tone and Emma's impatience. "Have a good day," she mumbled, wheeling the cart of equipment out of the room and pulling the door three quarters of the way shut.

She could have screamed, as even Killian's amusement seemed to bother her. Trying a technique that Ruth had taught her as a teenager, Emma took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Her hands now free since the vital sign check, she picked at the rubbery texture of the Snoopy on the front of her shirt.

"I forgot to compliment your outfit," Killian said, biting the inside of his cheek to avoid the laughter that was imminent. "You look quite young and innocent. I could picture you at some teenage slumber party playing truth or dare."

His argument gained some validity when her response was to stick her tongue out at him. "I don't think I want to say it now."

Running his hand over the lower part of his face did not hide the smile growing behind it. "What?"

"I was…I was going to tell you that I love you too."

She might have been mistaken, but it appeared that he nearly lost his balance on his perched seat. He leaned back, repeating the hand over his mouth and chin gesture at least three times before he spoke. "You do?"

She considered pouting, telling him that she had been mistaken and that it was the adrenalin of being saved and the fear of having not told him when she questioned her own survival. She even considered saying she had changed her mind, but she didn't. She had said it. She could say it again. "I do love you, Killian."

His breath came out of his nose a rush as he blinked twice. "I might not have expected such a confession in a hospital room with you decked out in a cartoon character outfit."

"You'd rather I take it back?"

He shook his head vehemently. "No, my love. I am glad to hear it. I love you too."

***AAA***

David dropped his jacket in the empty chair and took a sweeping glance around his office with a nostalgic eye. He'd already started to pack up some of his personal belongings. There were framed diplomas and certificates, plaques and pictures of him with the governor and other elected officials. None of them would have room at his desk with the other deputies. He had not mentioned it to Mary Margaret yet, but maybe they could find room for some of them at the home they were going to share. It would not be the same, but a wall of fame at home might be a good compromise.

Crossing over to one of the larger framed photos, his hands gently lifted the image off the wall. He and his father stood on either side of a former vice president. There was a look of pride on Spencer Nolan's face, a rare glimpse behind the cold and unaffected veneer. David could remember that night so well. He had invited his father to go as his guest to the fundraiser after Mary Margaret had come down with a cold. His father had actually been impressed with his son's connections and networking skills.

"You know there isn't a hurry about that," Graham said, surprising the sheriff out of his remembering. "I wasn't trying to hone in on your space."

David placed the photograph on a stack of his personal belongings on the table. "It's about to be yours. You don't really need my photos and stuff mucking it up." He reached for another, a photo of him receiving a commendation from Regina. The phone was a clipping from the newspaper, the paper yellowing with age.

"You know you would have won, right? What your father did aside, you would have won." Graham waited until David finally met his eyes. "People love you in this town. I…I decided to run because I needed something in my life that was more than writing speeding tickets and the occasional lost dog. I wanted more, thought I needed more…"

"I dropped out of the race," David said with a ragged breath. "Now the clerk's office may not be thrilled I waited this long, but I am not a candidate any longer. You got the job, Graham. You'll be good at it."

Graham took a step toward the desk and lifted the newspaper clipping of David and Regina. "The clerk called me today to explain that while you were not seeking the office that your name will appear on the ballot. They've already been sent out to absentee voters so they can't change it."

David sighed again, running one hand through his darkly sandy hair as his other rested around the belt of his jeans. "I appreciate the political science lesson, but I'm not interested in continuing in the race. I've dropped out. I'm not a candidate. People know that."

"I just thought that perhaps you would want to reconsider. If enough people realized that you would be willing…"

"No, Graham, no. I'm not interested in changing my mind. I made my decision."

 ** _Thoughts? Ideas? Comments? All welcome._**


	29. Chapter 29

**_This chapter did not want to be written. There is a bit of fluff here but also settling up on some of the different plots in this story, including the election for sheriff and Tink's rescue plans. I apologize that this took so long, but I hope you're still with me._**

 ** _Thank you again for your comments and reviews. I hope you continue to enjoy this story. I will have this finished by the premiere. I already have another story in mind, but I may hold off a bit on it. We'll see._**

The scent of cinnamon was in the air when Emma felt herself drifting between the deep sleep she had fallen into and the wakeful state that was beginning to tug at her. Letting out a soft moan of appreciation at the scent, she burrowed into the soft velvety pillow and let it seep over her. While she felt the cool chill of the evening on her exposed skin, she slowly realized that the rest of her was warm in stark contrast. Her eyes pried open to the low light of the room, soft glow from a faraway lamp that reminded her of candlelight enveloping her along with a fluffy throw blanket that she last remembered seeing across the room.

Running her tongue along her lips to wet them, she expelled a breath and called out his name. There was only one person who might cover her, caring for her even while she was napping. "Killian?"

"There you are, love," he said with a gentleness that she knew he usually only reserved for their shared bed. "I was beginning to worry that you might be under a sleeping curse."

She gave him a tight smile, rolling to her side to better look at him despite the protest of her muscles in her neck and shoulders. "What time is it?" she asked groggily. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

He grinned brightly. "I returned about 5 and it's 6:30 now. I was hoping to rouse you with a bit of your favorite chocolate drink." His hands were wrapped around a large mug, the dollop of whipped cream mountaining over the edge with flecks of the fragrant cinnamon dotting it.

"Hot chocolate for dinner," she noted, reaching out for it with both hands and taking a long sip of it. "I thought you were more traditional."

His smile faltered slightly, a hand reaching back to scratch at the back of his neck nervously, perching on the arm of her couch just a short distanced from her. "I was thinking," he said, his accent thicker when he was nervous. "Your boy called a bit earlier to request dinner with you. He seemed so disappointed when I told Regina that you were asleep that I decided to invite him over and planned to make sure that you were awake." There was a tinge of regret in his expression. "I suggested that he might come by for dinner."

Emma blinked a couple of times, her incredulous expression shining. "You invited Henry and Regina over here?" The newly found peace with Regina was certainly heartfelt, but Emma still felt a bit odd about the relationship with Henry. After the car accident she wasn't sure if Regina would ever trust him in her care again.

"Just the lad," Killian answered, crinkling his eyes as he watched her surprise. "The mayor said she could use an evening off." His hand raked through his hair, leaving little tufts in disarray. "I was thinking I might order you a pizza to share with him. Or I could see if Ruby might drop you something off like a burger? Your choice, love."

Her brow furrowed a bit. "You don't have a request? Or maybe we should wait for Henry? He's pretty opinionated." She watched his shifting and wondered. "You are staying, right?"

There was that soft placating smile, the one he gave her before delivering news. She recognized it well. "I didn't wish to intrude, love," he said hesitantly. "You and your boy need the time to yourselves to try to figure things out. I think he may have some questions about Neal. I didn't want to presume that I would be welcome." She noticed that he had at some point taken off his shoes. His dark sock covered feet rested on the edge of the couch cushion, his hands on his knees.

"You are not intruding," she said firmly, taking another sip of her drink. "I want you here too. I don't know what the hell I'm doing, but I like that you are here and encouraging me." She frowned then, a thought darkening her expression. "You like him, don't you? Henry?"

He bit out a chuckle at the insecurity of her question. "Of course," he reassured. "He's a charming lad and a pleasure. Not to mention he is a part of you which makes him all the more special."

The draw of her breath was sharp as she realized she did need to talk to him about that. "I'd like you to stay," she said, surprising herself a little bit. "You don't have to do that whole hiding thing every time he comes over. I have to find a way to balance all this. You, me, him, and…"

He grin was even less hesitant. "I am honored you would wish to include me, but right now we need to pick a dinner choice. He'll be here momentarily."

"Pizza sounds good. Deluxe? I know he liked that." Placing the nearly empty mug on the table next to a stack of catalogs and junk mail that she always meant to go through but never quite managed, Emma stretched and stared down at the throw again. "Did you put this on me?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Killian was concentrating on the screen of his phone, clearly ordering the food. "Aye, it was slightly chilly when I returned and you were all curled up in a ball." A brief smile of triumph flashed over him at the completion of his task. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, it's…nice to wake up and find myself having been cared for," she said, choosing a weak word for how she actually felt. She wasn't even sure she knew the correct word for the fuzzy feeling that had bubbled inside her to find herself tucked in the simple throw. It wasn't so much the throw itself but the gesture of it, the fact that he had worried about her becoming chilled, his concern for her comfort and wellbeing. "I suppose I should get up and ready for him."

He gave her a curt little nod, extending a hand to help pull her to standing and then kissing the back of her hand when she was upright. She rolled her eyes at the gesture, but still leaned in to kiss his cheek. "I do believe you're feeling some better?"

The doctor had insisted she take a few days after releasing her from the hospital. While she had not suffered any lasting injuries, she did still feel the effects of the minor ones on her muscles. So with some reluctance she had stayed put, talking to Henry on the phone, alternating visits from Ruby who brought gossip and Mary Margaret who brought wedding materials, and finding herself snuggled up to Killian for a movie or more intimate activities. "I'm fine," she said for what felt like the 100th time that day alone. "I like you being here."

His blue eyes lit at her statement, which was almost as sweetly sincere as declaring that she loved him. Emma was not a woman who let people in either emotionally or physically. And the fact that she had not even protested when he brought a bag over, declaring that he was going to stay during her convalescence, had not gone unappreciated. Tugging her toward him, his grin was worn until his mouth covered hers. Her lips soft and tasting of her favorite chocolate and cinnamon as she parted her mouth for him. One of her hands sat splayed on his chest, feeling the staccato beat of his heart against her palm as their other hands remained entwined near her hip. His free hand was at the nape of her neck tangling into her tousled hair as he deepened the kiss more, swallowing her tiny gasp and moan. He was the first to pull away, her eyes still shut and not seeing his tongue dart to taste her on his own mouth before he spoke. "We best get this out of our system before the lad arrives. No sense traumatizing the boy."

She giggled in response, dropping her forehead to his shoulder. "You're right. You get some drinks and I'll make myself presentable."

His chuckled echoed off the walls. "I should mark this day in my calendar," he said, eyes glowing even more at her confusion when she leaned back to look at him. "You have told me you enjoy my company and that I'm right. I believe I might just be well on my way to winning your heart, love."

Playfully swatting the spot on his shoulder where her head had just been, she rolled her eyes again. "I thought you determined you had won it when I admitted I love you."

"Both of them are banner days."

***AAA***

If Henry was having any qualms about the state of his relationship with now three parents and their significant others, he was not showing it in the least. He answered the polite questions about how he was catching up on his school work, what he missed most about being away from his classes, and even a few about his classmates and friends. He merely smiled when Emma asked if he was tired of such questions that she knew Regina and Neal had both asked on more than one occasion.

"I'm used to it," he said with a shrug, his dark hair falling into his eyes a bit. He shook his head to set it back. "Kind of like pizza."

Killian raised a questioning eyebrow, reaching for another slice as Emma asked him what he meant by the pizza. "I thought you enjoyed eating pizza. You ate nearly three quarters of the pie when I took you for it."

The boy laughed loudly, reaching out and helping himself to another slice as the cheese pulled messily. "I do like it," he confirmed. "It's just that adults seem to think this is all I want to eat. Pizza or burgers."

Emma's mind sorted quickly through the menus of the handful of meals she had shared with her son. "And that's…"

"It's fine," he said, again shooting her a grin through the pizza sauce and cheese. "You don't have to try so hard though. It's cool. I know you like me. You're just trying to impress me."

Her jaw dropped a good inch as she stared at the nonchalant way her son had just assessed the situation. There was no hiding that the meal looked just as he had described it. There was hot, gooey pizza of three types spread out on the coffee table, garlic knots sent their strong aroma into the air, two different types of soda was chilled and being served out of plastic cups, and a chocolate chip cookie from the pizza delivery place was over on the kitchen counter waiting on them. They had shunned utensils and plates, using paper towels instead. Some movie about superheroes was playing on television, the voices low as they chatted about Henry. She blushed slightly at the assessment until she heard Killian chortle beside her. Elbowing him, she glowered angrily. "I seem to remember you thought pizza or burgers were the best choices."

He ducked his head with appropriate regret. "I believe the boy may have found us out, love," he said. "My apologies, lad. I won't allow you to be offended by such horrible food in the future." He reached, stretching his arms, to pull the boxes of pizza away.

"Don't you dare," Henry said with a sharpness, his own hands closing around the cardboard containers. "I love pizza." He shot his eyes toward Emma pleadingly. "I do!"

Biting her lip to keep from laughing, Emma placed a hand on Killian's arm. "I don't know. Killian, we may have hurt his feelings. Too much pizza. It's a bad thing." Her tongue clicked on the top of her mouth as she watched Henry draw in a breath to keep up the protest, but it was lost as she began to laugh at his hurt and determined expression.

"It wasn't such a bad idea," he conceded, drawing his hands away at the same time as Killian, looking to the man for help with his mother. "I do like pizza. But I like other things too."

"Such as?" Killian asked, feeling Emma shake with laughter beside him. "Perhaps you could give us some suggestions for the future." He wrapped an arm loosely over Emma's shoulders, pulling her in toward his side.

"I like spaghetti," he offered, looking skyward as if it might offer a suggestion. "And quesadillas."

"What about grilled cheese?" Killian asked, sneaking a look at Emma who was swallowing the remnants of her laughter that was more a release of nervous energy. He had seen it building in her, the way she had straightened up as if she might be judged over the dust bunnies. "It is one of Emma's favorites."

The young boy's face lit with wonder. "With tomato soup?"

Emma nodded. "I've liked it since I was a kid," she said, brushing aside her usual trepidation at talking about her childhood. Henry did not need to hear those stories or those fears, his own childhood having been steps away from that by being adopted. "Something comforting about it."

"Maybe we could have that next time," he said. "I mean if you invite me over or something. I don't mean…"

"You know that you are welcome to come here," Emma said. "If you have your mom's permission that is." She smiled. "Now eat your dang pizza and let's watch this movie."

***AAA***

The bed dipped as Killian returned to it, having started the coffee and turned the furnace to a more reasonable temperature for them on what appeared to be a lazy Saturday morning. Emma didn't even open her eyes, scooting backwards against his chest and pulling his arm over her middle and letting her hands run over her back his as she reveled in his breath on her neck. "Morning, Killian," she muttered.

"How did you know it was me?" he asked huskily with a hint of teasing in his tone. "I could be some burglar who came across a beautiful woman in this bed and decided to join you." He buried his nose into her hair, the exposed skin cold against her. "Some complete stranger here to compromise your virtue."

She inhaled the scent that was now wafting in from the kitchen. "A stranger who is my own personal heater and makes coffee," she said as though considering the situation. "I would welcome that in my life. Does this stranger do laundry? Does he mop and vacuum? I could use help with that too."

He chuckled, nosing away an errant curl to place his lips against her neck. "He'd do anything you wish for the chance to hold you."

Slapping his arm playfully, she sighed. "You know, I'm not so sure that all those little comments and compliments are sincere. I think you just want to get into my pants."

"So paranoid," he continued his little game with her, his attention to her neck increasing. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were doubting my feelings for you. Perhaps you do still see me as a stranger."

She turned her face toward him, allowing him to redirect his attention to her high cheekbones and the side of her face. Then just as quickly he ran a line down her neck, paying close attention to her pulse. "I did pick you up in a bar," she deadpanned, lifting a hand to caress his stubbled cheek. "I don't usually have good luck with those sorts of things."

"And I thought I picked you up," he answered, his voice confused by her recollection. She might have believed him if he hadn't laughed heartily. "We don't have the most traditional of origins, but I rather like that."

"Me too," she agreed, feeling his fingers under her chin as he gently lifted her face toward his. He was teasing at first, lips brushing and barely touching hers. She felt herself chasing awkwardly after his lips, flipping onto her back and pulling him down to her. He was smiling as their lips met again, nipping at her lower lip to continue his teasing way.

They might have stayed there in the bed, lazily enjoying each other in the cocoon of the blankets and sheets had both of their phones not rung out at the same time. He probably heard it first, that annoying buzz and trumpet of his phone mingling with the melodious tune of hers as their kiss lingered and hands wandered in what could be described as strategically aimless patterns.

"I swear if this city isn't under attack I'm going to throw my phone at the head of whoever is calling," Emma said, shimmying out of Killian's grasp to reach her phone. Her frown deepened as she stared at the screen and its identification of the caller.

Killian reached for his own, sliding his finger across it to answer. "Good morning Lady Belle," he said, throwing himself against the stack of pillows on the bed. "What can I do for you today? Are you seeking another ship? Perhaps one that can fly?"

"Your sarcasm is duly noted," the blonde woman said through the phone. "And I thought we had done away with that nickname."

"Yes, my apologies," Killian answered. "Tink is much more dignified. But you haven't told me what it is I can do for you." He dug into his eyes with heel of his hand, alternating back and forth as she described her latest crisis over the ship he had procured for her. After letting her whine for a bit, he agreed to meet her along with another staff member to discuss a few modifications that could be made. He was just hanging up when he heard Emma winding down her own conversation.

"I don't know," she said with firmness that he wasn't used to hearing. It almost sounded cold until she repeated the statement with a slightly less intimidating structure. "I don't know. I thought that he was out of it."

She ignored his questioning look, glancing over toward the clock rather than at him. "I've not given it much thought, Graham," she said, giving Killian a clue as to who she was talking to at that moment. "I guess I could call my friend at the state." She drummed her finger on the back of the phone. "Seriously, this never occurred to you before?"

Killian was unable to discern the meaning of the conversation from just the context clues of Emma's portion of the dialogue. For a brief moment she looked apologetically at him until he mouthed a question to her. Her hand flew up in response to ask for a moment's reprieve.

"I'll talk to Mary Margaret. You keep thinking." She muttered a few more affirmative answers and said goodbye, dropping the phone onto the blanket and collapsed backwards in defeat.

"What on earth, love?" he asked, reaching out and smoothing her skin where worry was evident.

"Graham wants to throw the sheriff's race back to David," she said, bunching the blankets up under her arms. "He wants me to help."

***AAA***

Graham's suite at Granny's was barely bigger than Emma's bedroom, but he still managed to pace the length of it as Emma and Mary Margaret took up the two chairs by the windows. His face appeared almost ghostly white as the two women reviewed their options.

"So you want to announce you're dropping out and throwing your support to David?" Emma asked, her fingers on her temples as if she was warding off a headache. "What's to say that will work? David already quit."

"David's not going to let you do this," the brunette chimed in. "It's a pride thing for him."

The deputy's foot dragged on the carpet. "I get that, but he's the better candidate. His finding Emma proved that to me." He shook his head almost violently. "But you're both right. He's not going to let me just hand this to him."

"So what is your plan?" Emma prodded, stealing a glance at Mary Margaret. The teacher was on the verge of tears, which Emma hoped was a sign of her happiness over her fiancé and not some frustration that this might push back the wedding.

"We need to get some help on this," the teacher interrupted. "Maybe we could talk to some groups, civic clubs and things like that." She pursed her lips and looked up and to the right as she thought.

Emma shook her head no. "Too late for that. We're three days before the election. How are we going to get word out?"

Graham rocked back on his heels. "We could go on the radio. Talk to people gathering at Granny's? Church? Where are most of the people right now?"

The three started laying out their plans, making a few calls to Robin, John, Ruby, and even the mayor to see if they could stage this just right. Mary Margaret admitted that she was worried about David's reaction, but said she knew that it was all for the best since he did love his role as sheriff. She ducked out to take a call about the latest fitting for her altered wedding gown, promising to be back momentarily.

"You have said what you're planning," Emma said, the pads of her fingers tracing along the seams of the embroidered pillow on the chair. "What's next?"

Graham seemed a bit taken aback by her question, shifting on his seat on the bed. He was wildly flipping through the newspaper's calendar section, seeing what if any groups might meet on the weekend. She said his name twice before he looked up. "I'm afraid I don't have a plan. Maybe David might take mercy on me and keep me around. Or I could talk to one of your friends with the state police. I don't know, Emma, but I know I have to do this."

Emma nodded slowly. "You don't have to do it. David's basically handing you this race. You could be sheriff elect next week. Why do this? I mean I know you respect David, but to give up your dream…"

"My dream is to find my calling," the deputy interrupted. "It's never been about being sheriff. I…I don't have the heart for it. Not like David does. And the reason that David wants to drop out, to spite his father, well that's not right either. So I don't know what's next for me. We'll just figure it out. Somehow."

***AAA***

Tink's wool coat was cinched around her tiny waist and her hands lined with leather gloves that fit like a second skin. Her blonde curls bounced as she spoke to both Killian and Smee, her eyes dancing with delight over the news that the renovations to the ship were ahead of schedule.

"And I still can't convince you?" she asked Killian, touching his arm lightly as she did. Smee's eyes widened as the dark haired man yanked his appendage out of her reach. "You'd be the perfect captain. Your brother would be proud."

Killian drew in a breath like a hiss. "Low blow, Tink. Even for you."

She brushed it aside with the wave of a well-manicured hand. "Why is it that you think that I'm kidding about this? I'm serious. I need a captain and you have experience. I trust you. Completely."

Smee scratched at the facial hair he had been growing on his rounded face. "Ms…." He seemed unable to come up with her name. "We have a few options for captain and crew for you. Let's look at the criteria for this. Availability? Experience?"

The blonde scowled a bit, pulling out her phone and scrolling through some messages. "Killian knows what I am looking for with this. He's just too afraid." She silenced the dark haired man easily. "I don't know what's going on with you, Killian, but this is too good of an opportunity to miss. Bring Emily with you. It's not like I'm asking you to sleep in my bed."

"Emma," Killian said a bit more quietly, then shaking off his fog continued. "Her name is Emma and this is not about her. Not completely. Tink, I'm not interested in being on this mission with you. I'm trying to help you here."

"I don't accept defeat easily," she said with a wrinkle of her nose. "But if you say you're not interested, I guess I don't have a choice."

"We have plenty of choices," Killian answered, his tone leveling out. "Tink, it is obvious that Smee and I do care about this rescue. We are here to help you. Our being here on a Saturday is evidence of that."

There was nobody that could pout like Tink with her pink lips protruding her dark lashes casting shadows on her high cheeks. "Let's skip over the captain talk for now. I need a strategist. There are military installations, rebels, and terrain that we aren't used to getting through. This isn't a typical one for me. Who do you know who has some experience with that?"

The three began to bat names back and forth, each considering the other with some complaint or lack of confidence. Killian would suggest someone who Tink would reject as Smee made notes on a napkin that only he could read around the smudges. After a great deal of negotiating they had narrowed the list to three, who Killian offered to call and see their level of interest.

"We still work well together," Tink said with a sly smile that faded upon Killian's frown. "What? I'm not asking again. I'm just pointing out that we work well together. I know you're not happy selling boats for a living. Come on! Just consider it. Think how great it would be."

"I thought you were not asking again," Killian pointed out.

"I technically didn't." She let one of her shoes dangle off her toes as she crossed her legs in his direction. "Just tell me what it is you're afraid of, Killian. Because the you that I used to know wasn't scared. You were stubborn, fearless, and one of the best men for any job. You didn't care what we were up against. You fought for those kids. You were a hero. Now you're content to sit behind a desk and buy things? You are happy dating a woman and being at home with her ever night? Does she even know you? Does she know that you have been an adrenaline junkie who was someone to be admired? I doubt that she does. I don't know what it is you're trying to do, Killian, but this isn't you."

He practically growled at her words, pushing back from the table. "Smee, make sure that Ms. Green has her crew in place. You can bloody well keep the commission on it as well for all I care. I've already rejected your offer, Tink. There is no reason…"

She matched his movements, pushing back from the table and standing to face him. "I'm your friend, Killian. At least I used to be. I cared about you. I thought you were awesome. I thought that you could do anything. But I guess I was wrong about you."

***AAA***

Emma rolled her head from shoulder to shoulder, wondering just how she had gotten pulled into this mess. So far the message most people were interpreting was that there were two candidates for sheriff and neither wanted the job. She had already sent a ragged and frustrated Mary Margaret home, promising that she would follow suit very soon which she had. Feeling every bit as tired as the doctor had warned her, she half threw herself and half collapsed onto the bed in her apartment. Her head buried in the pillows, she stifled a laugh that even when they were rushing about that morning that Killian had found a moment to make the bed.

"OCD idiot," she muttered, wrapping her arms around one of the pillows.

It had not missed Emma's attention that Killian had been at her apartment since her release from the hospital. While she was physically fine – a miracle according to the doctors – he had declared himself as her nurse and practically moved into the small space. The closeness had worried her a bit, old habits dying hard. She worried that his being there so much might mean that she could not keep the charade of her life.

She wasn't hiding anything that horrible, but there were things. He might realize that she watched Food Network to fall asleep and yet never cooked a dang thing she learned from it. He might find out that when she wanted to shut out the world, she not only silenced her phone but hid it under a pillow because she thought it might taunt her if she saw it. Or he might see that she sometimes ate brownie batter without baking it. Her mind told her that he would not cease to love her because she liked those things. But that internal voice still gave her moments of doubt.

It was a Saturday, supposedly his day off. But he had rushed about with some talk about some sort of deal. She had not really paid attention, which in hindsight seemed rude. He was always paying attention to her, caring about her and loving her. Why couldn't she manage to do the same?

"Love?"

She heard him entering the apartment calling out to her softly, just in case she was asleep. She lifted her head slightly to respond and heard his quick and heavy footsteps headed to the bedroom. His smile was so familiar that the warmth of it pooled inside her as she realized that she had never seen him smile for anyone quite the same way. "You're back," she said as he joined her, toeing off his shoes and collapsing beside her.

"Aye, it's been a day," he said. "I couldn't stop thinking about being with you again."

"It's still afternoon," she reminded him as he propped himself up on one elbow and used his other hand to trace down her.

"It is that," he said, his fingers lifting her golden hair in tiny movements as though he might think she actually did have hair of gold. "Bloody waste of day without you, but I hope to remedy that."

Her eyes were a bit wide at his frustration. "You could just say you missed me."

"I missed you."

She smiled, swallowing back a yawn. "I love you," she said. While the words had been said, she was reluctant to say them too much. Still the even broader smile at her confession made her heart leap. "Want to tell me about your day?"

He sighed, his hand drifting to the valley between her breasts where he stroked under her sweater with a softness that made her want more. "Later," he muttered, leaning down and kissing the tip of her nose before joining his lips to hers for a brief and yet sweet kiss. "Right now I want to enjoy the woman I love."

Placing her palm at the small of his back, Emma rolled him easily toward her "If she's not available, I'll stand in for her," she teased.

"I think you'll do, love," he responded back.

 ** _Thoughts?_**


	30. Chapter 30

Killian's feet pounded on the sidewalk as he rushed past the quaint shops and cafés that lined the main street of Storybrooke. Most of them were closed on that Sunday morning, holding out until later to open when more people would be milling about. His eyes did not seem to wander to them though, having a more isolated destination in mind than window shopping for trinkets and odds and ends. He needed to be alone, he told himself, unable to garner the energy to fake the smiles that would squelch Emma's worry.

He'd never meant for her to worry about him, but he knew she was. She was a perceptive lass, he had told her a few times. She could sense the turmoil inside him that he was not sure he could identify himself. He hated lying to her, hated the deception of the words like fine and alright when he felt nothing of the sort.

"Killian!"

The dark haired man looked up from the sidewalk to see Henry waving frantically from the curb. Giving the boy a sort of half smile, he disentangled a hand from his pocket and waved. "Young Mr. Mills," he said, approaching the mayor and Henry. "It appears you and your mother have picked a cold morning for a stroll."

Henry laughed at the man's formality, knowing that was just part of the humor that he seemed to use. "My mom promised me waffles at Granny's if I got caught up on my math assignments. I did!"

"Congratulations," Killian said sincerely, offering his gloved hand to shake. "I'm sure your mother is pleased with your academic progress. Yet I never pegged her as the type to dine at Granny's. Take out, yes, but not an eat at the counter type of woman."

Regina patted her son's shoulder, stealing a glance at her phone and then at the diner across the street. "I'm not above bribing," she said with a wry laugh. "And I'll have you know, Mr. Jones, that I do have my own favorite seat at the counter." Her voice dropped on the word counter as though she did not fully want to admit it. "I may have a penchant for Granny's lasagna, though my own is a bit better."

There was an awkward silence before Henry grabbed his mother's forearm. "You want to join us?"

"I appreciate the invitation, lad, but I've got a bit of business to take care of," he said, offering both mother and son a smile. "Perhaps we'll see each other later?"

***AAA***

Emma closed her eyes and rested her head against her car seat, willing her headache to cease as Ruby ran into the pharmacy with a handful of flyers about the sheriff's race. Mr. Clark was usually easy going about such things, allowing residents to post signs about yard sales or bake sales so long as you purchased something in return. Emma threw a few crumpled bills at her friend and begged for the biggest bottle of aspirin that she could find.

"You're supposed to be taking it easy," Killian had reminded her when she kissed his cheek and turned for the brunette's car with Ruby. "Sick leave and all that."

"This is important," she had reminded him, stopping to look over her shoulder. "You could come with us."

"Perhaps later." His smile faltered a bit before he kissed her again, a sound and short peck that Ruby groaned over. "I've got a few things to do."

Her head tilted to one side. "Are you alright? You're acting strange."

"Fine, love."

Those two words echoed in her hurting head as she waited on Ruby to quit flirting with the mechanic. He should have been off working on the yellow Bug, replacing the radiator and checking the wheel balance. Instead he was blushing and leaning toward Ruby with a stupid grin on his face as she twirled a thick curl around her finger. Emma's eyes closed again as she waited, trying to concentrate on the task at hand and not the worried expression in Killian's eyes that he refused to talk about. She was used to his trying to break down her walls and not the opposite.

Digging into her pocket, she pulled out her phone and pressed the third button that she had designated as his. Admittedly it was strange to have assigned anyone she was dating a speed dial on her phone, but she had done so without much debate. Normally that would scare her, but she pushed that thought aside as she heard his familiar voice asking her to leave a message.

"Hi," she said, trying to find the right words to say as the sun's rays blinded her through the windshield. "I was just wanting to check in with you. You seemed a little off this morning. Give me a call. Love you."

She was just putting her phone back in her pocket when Ruby bounded into the car, dropping a small paper bag into the blonde's lap. "Aspirin and chocolate. I couldn't resist."

"Quite a combo," the deputy muttered, peering into the bag. "What about something to…"

"Drink?" Ruby offered, her bright red lips shining in a smile. She reached into her jacket and pulled out a bottle of water. "Sorry, only two hands. Now break out that chocolate."

Emma swallowed a couple of the aspirin as Ruby broke the candy bar in half and waved the chocolate under her nose. Rolling her eyes, Emma reached out and grabbed it. "Where to next?" she asked.

"Graham's on the radio right now being interviewed," Ruby said thoughtfully. "Mary Margaret's got David occupied and we've dropped off flyers at all the places here on the main drag. I'd say we're doing pretty good." She tapped her hand against the steering wheel. "We could go play hooky for a while. Or you could go take a nap. No offense, but you look like crap."

Emma grimaced. "That's not very nice of you to say."

"I'm not trying to insult you. I'm just worried."

Emma would have responded with something sarcastic and equally comforting, but her phone bleeted out a melody and she reached to answer it.

***AAA***

Elsa's poised and subdued demeanor shone as she sat primly in front of Sidney with her long fingers laced together in her lap. Her blonde hair was so pristine that it was almost white under the bright sunlight that streamed in through the windows of the usually dark newsroom.

"I appreciate you coming in today," Sidney said, a fake smile plastered on his face. "As you can see, we aren't much of a Sunday kind of business."

Offering her own smile with fake backing, she exhaled slowly. "I appreciate your willingness to do this story."

"Yes, well, it appears this political race has become somewhat of a free for all with Sheriff Nolan dropping out and then Deputy Graham deciding that he was not interested either. I'm sure as someone whose family was recently the victim of a violent and dangerous attack that you are concerned about this. Wouldn't you agree there is a complete lack of consciousness for the public safety of this city?"

Elsa stopped herself from tapping her foot. She had not planned on speak again on the dark days of the disappearance of her sister and Kristoff. Her one exception being anything in court to make sure that Hans and the others paid dearly. However, Emma's pleading call had touched something in the normally reserved woman's heart.

"I can't imagine anyone who has the interests of this city more in focus than David Nolan," she told the reporter with an emphatic confidence. "He was instrumental in helping to safely return my sister and her fiancé from the clutches of a sick individual."

Sidney did not appear to be surprised at that, still he tapped the notes he was holding as though he just discovered a secret. "Sheriff Nolan was instrumental," he repeated. "And yet wasn't it Deputy Emma Swan that found them? She was the one who worked with state police."

Elsa's placating smile seemed genuine as she picked a bit of lint off her leg. "It was of course a group effort and the efforts of Emma can't be ignored, but Sheriff Nolan was instrumental in the process. One simply cannot underestimate the quick and strategic leadership that he displayed. I will forever be in his debt."

The interview continued for a good 30 minutes more with a few more questions and Elsa's tireless and glowing recommendation of David. She told Sidney in no uncertain terms that she was pleased with the job that everyone had done, but that David was clearly the star of the show. Her lips quivered as she spoke of the abject loneliness she felt without her sister and how David had sent Emma to comfort her when he could not. If Sidney didn't believe her, he was putting on a good show. So with a final word about how she hoped that people would consider him for reelection, the blonde walked purposefully out of the office and down a quarter of a block before she called Emma.

"Done," she said with a hint of triumph in her voice. "He took a million notes and promised that the story will run Monday."

"Awesome," Emma said, sounding tired and drained. "I really appreciate this Elsa. I owe you dinner for it."

Elsa sighed. "You know I like your boss, but this was laying it on a bit thick."

"He was helpful," Emma pointed out. "He assigned me to the case and gave me quite a bit of latitude."

Balancing the phone between her ear and shoulder, Elsa got into her car and cranked it, reveling in the heat. "Got it. You don't have to convince me. Just the voters."

"You're coming to the election party Tuesday night, right? And Anna and Kris too?" The group had booked Granny's to watch the returns come in and celebrate. David would be reluctant, but Emma felt like they needed that celebratory moment – no matter the outcome. Ruby had convinced her grandmother to make some of the sheriff's favorites. The guest list had not been a formal thing, instead a few phone calls to those who had been supportive.

"Of course," Elsa said. "My sister adores your boss. She thinks he's cute, but don't tell Kris that. And she is dying to talk about wedding plans with his fiancé. I think the two of them are following each other on Pinterest and even have shared a few ideas for party favors for the reception."

"It wouldn't surprise me," Emma commented, chewing loudly and making Elsa cringe. "Sorry. I had to finish that chocolate before Ruby stole it from me. She's positively wolfish when it comes to those things. I really do appreciate this, Elsa."

***AAA***

The waves gently rocked against the dock making for uneven footing as Killian walked along the worn wooden path. There was a time when he was more comfortable with the gentle motion of the seas than he was on land, but that had been years and what seemed like a lifetime ago. Digging his hands into his pockets, he squinted into the sunlight and flinched at its glare off the water. Such brightness with the cold temperatures was disconcerting, but one quick gust of wind told him just how late into the season it was becoming.

The boats that had been packed for the winter creaked and groaned as the water lapped at them. It was another familiar sound to him. His brother had spent more time at the docks than anyone, teaching Killian everything he knew from sailors' knots to navigating with the stars. Their shared bedroom had been a haven of charts and nautical paraphernalia. However, nothing could have prepared Killian for losing his brother. As time progressed he had tried to venture back out on voyages, but it had always felt as if something were missing.

He heard her footsteps first, the familiar rise and fall of her toes and heels in the black leather boots that were her favorite. She carried herself quickly and when she stopped, he turned to face her with a concerned expression. "It's too cold out here for you, lass," he said, starting to peel off the coat he was wearing to give to her.

"And you're soaking up the sun like we're in the tropics?" she asked sardonically. "I'd like to point out that you are probably just as cold as me if not more so since you've been out here longer."

His ear neared his shoulder as he watched her struggle not to show any signs of chill. She lost, wrapping her arms around herself and letting loose with a good shiver. "What are you doing here?" he asked, stepping closer to wrap his arms around her and offer that much heat at least. "I thought that you and Ruby…"

"I was worried about you," she admitted, wrapping her arms around his middle so that she could use some of the warmth of his coat. "You didn't seem normal earlier and then you didn't answer your phone."

"Aye," he said with a kiss to her temple. "It's been a rough day, but I don't think either of us need to catch a chill over it."

Her expression told him that she wasn't buying it, digging her heels into the wooden planks and leaning back her head so that she had to look up at him. "Want to try that again? You never ignore a phone call from me."

"I apologize," he said softly. "I shouldn't have…"

"No," she said. "I'm not asking for an apology. I'm asking what's wrong." She braved a gloved hand outside his warm jacket to run along his jawline. "You can tell me. I've told you stuff."

"Aye, you have." His head leaned toward her touch, a slight almost imperceptible movement. He sighed, his blue eyes closing briefly. When he reopened them she was looking to him with both concern and compassion. "I don't want to disappoint you."

"You couldn't do that," she said solemnly, her eyes showing confusion over this confession. "You're a good person…"

"You do some wonderful things," he continued, ignoring her compliment as he watched her study him closely. "You found Elsa's sister. You help keep this town safe. I'm proud every time someone mentions your name, so proud that you are such an amazing woman and prouder still that you are with me."

"That's my job," Emma said, her expression changing as a distant horn on a ship blew loudly. "Mostly I write parking tickets. You are a great person, Killian."

His laugh was tight and soundless. "I sell boats," he said. "I sell people things they can't afford. I send them into debt so that they can dodge bill collectors for the rest of their days. I sell shipping equipment so that the prices on your favorite store items skyrocket to cover the shipping and transportation expenses. There is nothing noble in that."

Emma blinked against what she would probably claim was the inordinately bright sun that day, but in reality was the beginning of tears. "Killian, there is always something noble about doing a good job. Is that what this is about? Your career?"

He sighed, looking away from her fiery gaze at the water. "Perhaps we should go back to your apartment where it is a touch warmer." His hands were running up and down her covered arms in a fruitless attempt to combat the cold.

She looked skeptical, holding him close to her. "I'm not letting you off the hook," she reminded him, allowing him to guide her back toward the street. "I want to know what's wrong."

***AAA***

Graham shifted uncomfortably outside the door to Mary Margaret's loft apartment, listening as the footsteps grew closer. He had almost backed away from the forest green door a few times, telling himself that he could do this later. However, time was growing shorter and if the sheriff did not already know of his decision it was only a matter of minutes until he did.

It was the teacher who answered the door. Her hair a bit unruly and cheeks a bit flushed as she ushered him inside with a sweep of her arms. "I'm sorry for the mess," she said. "I was looking through boxes for my mother's wedding veil. I thought it was with the dress, but then I realized it wasn't. So I've been looking and now I've got to remember where all these boxes go…" She smiled again. "You're here to talk to David?"

The bearded deputy nodded solemnly. "I thought I should."

She gently touched his forearm. "He's trying to put some stuff away up in the loft," she explained, pointing to a steep set of metal stairs. "He'll be down in a minute. Can I get you anything?"

Despite his protests that he was fine and well, Mary Margaret led him to the wooden kitchen island and steeped him a warm mug of tea to match her own. "It's good for my stomach," she confessed," Wrapping one hand around it and blowing at the steam. "If I continue like this I'm going to be the first bride in history to have to stop the wedding march to vomit." She wrinkled her nose at the idea. "Perhaps I should add ginger or mint."

"You'd hardly be the first," Graham said gently, glancing back at the still empty stairs. "And I don't believe I've added my congratulations. I know you'll make a terrific mother. Even back in school you were always taking care of everyone."

She tilted her head to the side with the memory. "Including you. I remember when you fell on the ice. I think you were trying to impress…"

"Ashley," he answered morosely, not sure that sharing this memory was actually helpful in calming his nerves. "I was trying to show off in front of Ashley and fell down those three steps."

"Yes, one of my best friends. She didn't even notice though. You got pretty banged up and looked pretty pitiful."

"And you helped to bandage me up and set me to rights." He smiled over the mug of his coffee cup. "See, you've always been that mothering figure."

"You've done your fair share of saving," Mary Margaret said with her eyes misting over a bit before she waved a hand in front of her face to stop the potential tears. "When my father passed away…"

"We've known each other a long time," he said, brushing off the words she was too emotional to say. "I don't even remember how we met, but I know you've always been there for me. You have a wonderful heart, Mary Margaret."

It was the creaking on the metal stairs that alerted them that David had descended. However, they both jumped sky high as they heard him speak. "That she has," boomed David's voice. "But the question is why are we noticing it now. And what are you doing here on a Sunday talking to my fiancé." David wiped his hands along the velvety softness of well-worn denim and then fisted them to rest at his waist.

"I'm here to see you," Graham said, his voice shaking slightly with the realization that there was no turning back. "Your lovely fiancé was just giving me some company as I waited on you."

Standing up on her tip toes, Mary Margaret kissed David's cheek, explaining that she was going to walk across the street to get something she needed. He of course offered to go, but she insisted and with a swish of her coat and a resituating of her knitted cap, she was gone and the two men were alone.

"I guess you're here to try to convince me that nothing is going to be that different after the election Tuesday," David said, pulling a soda out of the refrigerator. He was sure that the conversation would be better over a beer, but he was hopeful that the soda would be better at the moment. "Don't worry. I've no reason to do anything but make this a smooth transition."

"I'm…" Graham sat down on the lower than normal wicker settee that left his knees practically at his chest. "I made a decision."

Curiosity quirked at David's brow. "And that would be what sort of decision."

"I've asked people to reconsider their vote," he said weakly, clearing his throat as if it was a cold that make him sound unsure. "To vote for you, David. There is no reason they should not have in the first place."

"I dropped out of the race."

"As did I," Graham said. "Your friends have been helping me to spread the word. And…And I think people are listening."

Running his hand along the side of his face, David frowned back at the man in front of him. "So you're trying to get me elected to a position that I dropped out of the running for? Who does that? Why? I dropped out for a reason. My father…"

"You aren't your father," the deputy answered quickly. "You're a fine sheriff and a better one than I could hope to be for this town. I only apologize that it has taken me this long to see it."

David pushed up to standing, pacing the small space in front of the settee. "You've got to be kidding. Why would you or my friends think this was a good idea? What makes you think that…"

"We knew you would disagree. You are humble, but we all know that this is how it was supposed to play out. You were supposed to be the one to lead us. You're a natural at it. People see that. Even without you campaigning, people are flocking to support you."

David hissed sharply, his anger growing more apparent on his flushed face. "Then why tell me now? I could just go and derail all this. I could go on television and say I don't want this."

"But you do want it," Graham said. "It's not the job. It's everything else. I get that now. I get that I was searching for happiness in the job and you were more about the people. You're the right choice. I only hope that you swallow back your pride…"

"I dropped out," David said with a shake of his head. "This isn't about pride."

"Isn't it?" Mary Margaret asked, letting the door fall shut behind her. "I'm sorry, honey, but I think you're wrong. You dropped out of that race and threw yourself into us. And I'm not saying that the wedding and getting ready for this baby aren't wonderful things. But you said yourself that you weren't sure how to not be Sheriff Nolan."

"I'm not Sheriff Nolan any longer," David announced. His eyes looked toward Graham who had shrunk back against the couch. The deputy's faded jeans and button shirt seemed to mimic the sallow color of his pained expression. "It's not that easy. Are you both insane? I can't just drop out and in this race like it is a line at the grocery store."

"You are hiding, David Nolan," his fiancé chastised with firm voice. "If you were okay with all of this about dropping out, you wouldn't avoid mention of it in the media. You would go with me for breakfast at Granny's instead of insisting on take out. You'd return phone calls from supporters instead of just sending back their campaign contributions." Her dark eyes softened gently as she stepped toward him and reached out to caress the side of his face. "Honey, I know what your father did was horrible and awful. And he's tried everything he could to get you elected. That makes him the bad guy, not you. Your role as sheriff isn't tainted by him."

Breathing in deeply the scent of his future wife's flowery perfume, he rocked a bit on his feet. "I should have cut ties with that man sooner."

"I've never been a fan of your father," Mary Margaret acknowledged. "He's hurt people, including me. But he's your flesh and blood. He's your only biological tie until this little one arrives. So I get it. If my parents were still alive I'd have a hard time saying goodbye to them even if they did those horrible things. But you know what? It doesn't make you weak. It means that you have a good heart and despite everything, you want to believe in family. That's one of the things I love most about you."

David huffed in response, snickering defensively at the idea there was anything admirable about the situation. "My stubbornness?"

She shook her head, smiling brightly as he looked completely perplexed. "Your loyalty and dedication to people. You took Emma into your life and family years ago. She kicked and screamed the whole way, but you did it. And you have never stopped caring about her. You insist she comes to family dinners. And I know that even after we've been married for 20 years that she and her family of her own will be a fixture in our lives. Our children will know each other and consider each other cousins. She's going to be Aunt Emma and you'll be Uncle David to her kids." She swallowed hard, imagining the scene in her head to be true. "But it's not just about that. It's the fact that you have a good heart. You can love her that way. Your father can't do that. But someday and someway you'll move past this hurt you feel with your father. You'll open your life up to him again."

She knew she was right. There was too much pain now, but someday David would try to mend the rift. It wasn't his job to do so, but he would because it was the man he was.

"So now you not only want me to run for sheriff but you're turning into the town psychic." Indignantly he rested his hands on her shoulders. "That's quite a talent. Have you told Emma yet that you picture her married with children? I think she might protest."

"She's not ready to hear it," Mary Margaret agreed with a chuckle of her own before she straightened her posture. "And you're deflecting. Listen to Graham. He's right. You're the sheriff. So act like it. Admit that dropping out was a rash decision that you should have considered more. Admit to the people of Storybrooke that you need them and they need you. You're a natural leader so lead. Don't do it for your father or the Nolan name. Do it because you are meant to do this."

His eyes lingered on the hopeful expression of the teacher in front of him. "You're sure?" She nodded in return. "Fine. What do we do now?"

***AAA***

Emma adjusted the dial on the oven for the left overs she had planned to warm up before padding her way into the living room and crumpling onto the couch with her legs folded under her. She leaned her head on a folded arm on the back of the couch, reaching her hand out to Killian's soft shirt. "So we've warmed up, got dinner heating up in there, and you've read all your emails."

His half smile did not make it up to his eyes as he stared off at the window that let in the little bit of light the apartment saw. The sunset had made a muted palate of oranges, yellows and reds that were not as fiery as they could be but still beautiful.

"I'm not going to pressure you," she said, her head dropping lower onto her bent arm. "You can talk to me, but if you're not ready…"

The palm of his left hand ran down his faced and settled on his chin as he looked outward at the window of her living room. She had yet to turn on a lamp, leaving it dimly lit as the sun disappeared beyond the tree line of the forest that bordered the north and west sides of town. One could get lost for days in the thick labyrinth of foliage. "My brother was a naval captain," Killian said somewhat abruptly. "Even before he was old enough to join the Navy, he was always looking at or talking about boats. If he needed to think, he went to the docks. He was made for a life at sea."

Emma smiled at the fondness with which he spoke of this brother. "Is that where you get it?" she asked softly.

"I wanted to be just like him when I was a kid. I would even stuff his shoes so they fit my feet. I adored my brother. And everything I did was to make him proud. But my brother, Liam, was impossible to please and his praise all too fleeting. I found myself constantly putting forth great effort to gain his approval. On the rare occasions I earned it, it was marvelous."

For some reason, Emma found it easy to picture Killian as a young child. In her mind's eye, she could picture a shorter version of him, a mop of black hair tinged with rust, and the bluest eyes framed by dark lashes that most girls would kill to have for themselves. He had probably been a quiet child, eager to please and every observant. She had seen a photo of Killian's brother, noting a few similarities such as the cut on their jaws and the thickness of their eyebrows. However, Liam had been a bit taller with curly hair and lighter eyes. She could see how Liam probably became annoyed with his much younger brother tagging along with earnest devotion.

"He never let me forget that he was older and bigger," Killian said with a sad little laugh that barely sounded like his usual self. "But he would have adored you, lass. He would have told me that falling in love with you was the best decision I ever made."

"I wish I had known him," Emma responded, placing her hand over his right hand and lacing their fingers together. "I always wished I had a brother or a sister. I'm sure I would have been annoying."

"Not the word I'd use to describe you," he said, muscles unstiffening as her thumb took over what was usually his job. Small delicate circles were rubbed on his hand and he watched her meticulously continue the motion.

"So this…" she said, searching for the word. "This mood is about you missing your brother?"

Killian's head shook with slow twist. "I miss Liam every day of my life, love," he said. "I had far too little time with him. Even now I can't help but imagine calling him up to tell him some news or tidbit about my life. When I met you I ached to call him and tell him that his little brother had met such a beautiful and brilliant woman."

She smiled, leaning forward a bit so that her chin rested at the tip of his shoulder. "Did something happen?"

"Tink's rescue mission for those orphans," he said as though that somehow explained everything. "She has asked me to captain the ship there and back. It's an honor, but I…"

Realization dawned on the blonde woman as his eyes lit at the mere mention of the job. "Do you want to do it?" she asked, carefully watching his facial expression.

"I want to stay here with you," he said, closing his fingers between hers and squeezing her hand. "I don't want to be that far from you…"

"But if it is something you want to do…" She paused, leaning her cheek where she had been nuzzling. "I will be here when you get back. It's not like we would be apart that long." She watched his expression fall even more. "I'd miss you, but think about the great welcome back sex. It might be a good thing."

She expected him to smile or at least give her that feral look before he would dive in and kiss her. The last thing she expected was a sad expression that seemed much more upset with the idea of leaving her. She repeated his name twice before he finally looked toward her. "My brother joined the Navy the first moment that he could. That was my plan too…following him like always." His free hand felt the familiar tug as his fingers scratched behind his ear. "He would have jumped at this chance. He would have…He would have been a great asset to Tink and her team."

Emma tried to picture herself home for weeks without him, not receiving those frequent texts and those little surprise visits. She had even thought recently that perhaps they should move in together, but now this seemed premature and silly. "So would you," she said. "I would miss you, but if you want to go…" She swallowed again, looking at their entwined hands. "I'm used to it. Being alone I mean. And it's temporary."

"I told her no," Killian said, looking at the same sight. "I don't want to do this without you."

She wanted to hear those words, wanted to believe them and believe in the hope they held. But one look at him said he was miserable with the thought that he was giving up his one chance at adventure and a meaningful existence. And while it was possible that opportunity might strike again, she hated that the reason for his denial and hesitation was her. So maybe that was why she took that deep breath and said in as steady of a voice as she could muster, "I want you to go."

 ** _Thoughts?_**


	31. Chapter 31

**One more chapter to go...**

 _ **Previous Chapters -**_ _ ****_ __ _ **and**_ _ **AO3**_

Election days when one works for the government are the longest and most unproductive days of all. The waiting on results cannot begin until after the polls close, leaving the curious to watch for unrelated signs that might predict the outcome. John was watching to see if the birds were flying low to the ground, a sure sign of an incumbent's victory. While David had made an appearance earlier, he had gone to cast his own ballot and pay a few social calls that might help. Graham had said he intended to spend the day at home and avoid the gossip and rumors that would surely abound, as well as the questions about his declaration.

"You daft fool," Robin said when he realized why the larger man was standing in front of the window rather than working. "That's how you predict snowfall."

Emma sputtered over her coffee, holding back laughter at the absurdity of the conversation. She had not really laughed since Sunday, keeping quiet and preferring to concentrate on the current workload than consider how many things in her life were changing. She knew that people were worried about her, the number of text and voice messages indicated that one. David and Mary Margaret checked in frequently, as did Ruby, Graham, Elsa, and Henry. Neal had left three messages on his own.

Robin dropped the file she had been searching for earlier on her desk, his own smile growing as she dove for it like it contained lottery winnings and food for a starving man. "You know that you're not on duty today, right?"

She ignored the question with a flip of her ponytail over her shoulder and let her eyes wander down the first page of the file. Finding it difficult to fully study the file under Robin's less than subtle gaze and the half attempt of John to do the same, she sighed, dropping the gold bracketed file onto her desk. "What?"

"It's not my business," Robin said, spinning one of the straight back chairs on one leg and straddling it backwards to indicate he wasn't going to make this a short conversation. "God knows I hate it when people offer me advice."

"Then don't." Emma offered this suggestion halfheartedly.

"What has happened between you and Killian?" The fact that he cleared his throat twice – one before the question and once after – indicated that he wasn't fully vested in asking it. Yet there he was with the kind eyes of a father and the sympathetic head tilt of a friend. "I haven't seen him yesterday or today and usually…"

"I guess he's busy," Emma said.

The answer was not completely satisfying, but Robin mulled it over for a few moments. Then with his fingers plucking at the corner of a stack of papers, he gave her a sigh. "Regina is probably one of the most independent women I know. She wants to make all her own decisions. She thinks she knows what to do in any situation." His lips twerked upward as he remembered some obviously private memory. "Problem is that it has made it hard to really get to know her. She has walls that are taller than any I have known. And damned if I didn't celebrate when I got over them. But the problem is that behind those walls is a woman who is afraid. She's afraid of being vulnerable and afraid of wanting too much. She's afraid that she'll do the wrong thing and push people away so she pushes them away to keep her heart protected." His arms were folded on the back of the chair, the gray t-shirt he was wearing stuck out from the collar of his blue and gray striped shirt. "I try to reassure her, show her that she is loved, but in the end she's afraid that I'll leave. So on more than one occasion she's pushed me to do just that."

Emma smoothed the end of her ponytail over her shoulder, watching with careful consideration as he studied her. He was obviously hoping she would derive some meaning in this story of his. "So you think I'm like Regina. I'm pushing Killian away so he won't leave first. It will hurt less if I push than if I'm rejected?"

Scratching thoughtfully at the stubble of his jawline, Robin shrugged with a minor rise of his shoulders. "I was just sort of venting about my relationship," he said. "If you found anything familiar or significant about my tale, that's just a coincidence." His lopsided grin seemed to be a challenge. "Did you learn anything?"

She rolled her eyes so far that she wondered if there was any damage to them. "I get it," she said. "I pushed Killian to accept the job so that I didn't have to see him leave and wonder if he was coming back. I didn't have to worry if I wasn't enough or if I was somehow responsible. He's leaving because of my terms. And I can't be mad at him or me if I told him to do it." She folded her arms over her chest, the thin brown leather jacket creasing with the effort. "I should go tell him, right? I should tell him that I'm going to miss him, but that I support his going. I should tell him that I will count every minute until he's home."

Pretending to think, Robin winked at her. "I don't know about all that. I was just thinking that you could have dinner with me at Regina's while Killian's gone. I mean since you have so much in common and all."

"Really, Locksley? Really?"

"Or maybe we could have lunch. Some burgers from Granny's?" He put on his most innocent expression. "It's not like we're getting any work done around here."

Emma thought of protesting, but her empty stomach got the better of her. Dashing off a note to herself on a post-it with both Robin and John's orders, the blonde slipped out the side door and hurried along to Granny's before the miners and other day workers managed to fill up all the tables. She knew that if she missed that tiny window between the breakfast and lunch shifts that she would be waiting quite a long time.

It seemed strange for it to be an election day and there were no posters for the candidates. Nobody stood on street corners with signs and nobody was walking door to door. The quietness was not indicative of apathy though, as Emma could see a plethora of people wearing stickers that indicated their experience voting. Emma's own sticker was on one of her lower layers of clothing and hidden by her jacket and scarf.

She was explaining to the proprietress of the diner just how John wanted his burger – extra cheese and less than the normal amount of lettuce – when she felt the eyes on her. The soft scent of lilacs kissed her nose and she could hear the animated laugh of the woman from the several feet away. She turned her head slightly to see her, Tink standing there chatting it up with one of the servers. Her wildly curly hair was piled on top of her head in an artistically messy bun and her delicate hands waved in a frantic fashion as she recognized someone from one of the other tables. They hugged quickly and Emma returned to her order, ignoring both the reunion and Granny's questioning glance.

"Two orders of onion rings and one of fries." Emma watched the woman scratch out barely discernable shorthand on the pad. "And can I get a hot chocolate to go. Extra cinnamon?"

"Oh that sounds good," Tink said, taking the bar stool next to her and rubbing her bare hands together furiously. "I am a sucker for anything chocolate. And cinnamon? It's one of my favorite spices."

Emma could see why Killian and everyone had a hard time saying no to the woman with her feisty and yet sincere attitude. She was the type of woman who men lusted after and women wanted to be friends with, but still Emma's stomach turned a bit sour each time she spoke, wondering if Killian was like the throngs of admirers. The idea of the two of them on that ship, quiet moments, celebrations, and more were the bane of Emma's existence now. She had taken to screaming no to herself every time she imagined them alone on that ship studying a chart of diagram, the blonde's body pressed against his… She did not need to see and hear that blonde now.

"Mine too," Emma responded weakly as the woman looked toward her with expectation. That two word answer seemed to be enough, as Tink turned her attention to the menu and began a list of orders to take back to the ship where, according to her hurried accounts, they were making the finishing touches.

Emma cringed as she heard the perky young woman order a grilled cheese with pepper jack rather than cheddar, adding a cup of tomato bisque too. That was clearly Killian's order – his standard after Emma had extolled the merits of her grilled cheese regular order. She almost told Tink to add a side of onion rings, knowing that Killian never did and yet managed to steal some of hers each time. However, that only made her imagine his long fingers snaking out to steal the fried side dish as he kissed her to distraction.

"You should come see the progress," Tink said, breaking through the remembrances. "It's a little more extravagant than we are used to having, but you know Killian. He never does anything halfway."

Humming in agreement, Emma pretended to stare at the menu with renewed interest. She didn't want to see the light in the woman's eyes. She'd heard Killian say that he had no interest in Tink, but just the thought of them in the same vicinity made Emma more than a little jealous. Inwardly she chastised herself, she had pushed him to this. She had told him to go. He'd protested valiantly and then with frustration and defeat written across him, he'd retreated from her apartment and said that they would talk later. That had been 36 hours ago.

"I hope this mission will be successful," Emma said, hoping she did not sound as robotic as she felt.

"I'm sure it will be," Tink said with no worry evident. "Killian and the guys are assembling a great crew. A little green perhaps, but great nonetheless." The woman droned on for a bit as Emma half listened and half prayed that Granny would hurry with the orders.

"Killian will do a great job," Emma said during a lull in the conversation. "He's always…

"Graham was so excited by the offer that I can't help but think that he'll be an enthusiastic and determined addition." Tink was smiling brightly, a gentle hum added to the cadence of her accent as she toyed with the lavaliere that hung around her neck. "Killian's suggestion was just brilliant!"

Emma's head snapped in Tink's direction, looking more than curious. "Graham?"

The other blonde nodded, curls bouncing. "Oh yes," she said. "Killian suggested him after I said we needed someone with some tactical experience at tracking and military operations. I hope we won't need his expertise too much, but bringing in our own expert is so much better of an idea than having to find someone while we're there." She smiled again as if she knew some wild secret. "He's excited about the opportunity."

"I'm sure he is," Emma said with a defeated sigh. First Killian and now Graham? Was she about to be alone in Storybrooke while everyone else went on an adventure? She tried to remind herself that she liked being alone, liked the feeling of the solitude and quiet, but it didn't quite feel the same.

***AAA***

Killian heard the thick and heavy clump of boots overhead, which he could easily discern did not belong to Tink. Dropping the box he had been carrying onto the pile and giving Smee and apologetic smile, Killian climbed on deck and squinted toward the taller figure across from him.

"Sorry, mate," he said with recognition. "I didn't realize you would be stopping by today."

David glanced at the rigging and equipment that was piled high both on the ship and at the dock. A few men that David barely recognized were dashing about with them, the sounds of drills and scent of torches filling his nose. "Lot of work being done around here," David said, the toe of his boot tapping another of the boxes.

Killian glanced about as if he had not even realized the extent of the activity himself. "Aye, it's a bear of task, but well worth it once she sets off." His coat was down below and he instantly wished for it, missing the comfortable warmth. "If you're here to see Tink or Graham…"

Smiling easily, David shook his head. "No, I spoke to Tink earlier about the timetable. And Graham came to me before he accepted the offer. I'm here to see you."

The knot in Killian's stomach seemed to tighten as he realized that this was probably the brotherly talk about hurting Emma. He swallowed hard, avoiding the taller man's eyes as he took a step backward and glanced about the deck again. "I assumed I would see you and hear from you about this," Killian said, using his sales voice. "Forgive me if I was hoping that I was wrong."

"Emma told you to do this. I can't fault you for wanting to see it through. It sounds like a wonderful opportunity. Adventure, good deeds, and all that. Must be exciting. I'd be tempted myself."

Again wishing for his coat, Killian considered his options for a moment. "She thinks I would regret it if I turned it down," he said with a sad sort of chuckle. "I told her…"

The startled grunt from David seemed out of place as he watched two of the men lug another crate onto the deck with hand trucks. "You've thought about that? Taking her with you, I mean?"

Killian smiled then shook his head. "I never got the chance to ask her, mate," he said. "Call me prideful or an idiot, I couldn't risk the rejection with her pushing me out the door."

"But you would?"

Killian had thought about it, considered the idea of taking Emma on some long voyage whether for work or for fun. He craved the idea of waking up with her in his arms each morning, the gentle sway of the ship rocking them into a deep slumber. He had pictured her learning just as he had, the smile on her face as she succeeded and the glow when she celebrated even the smallest of victories. "I would do whatever I can to remain in her life," Killian said, "but you know that once she decides to cut someone out, there is little that can be done."

David did know that. "She hasn't yet."

"Is Emma okay?" Killian asked, the lines deepening around his eyes as he said her name. "I assumed she would be busy what with the election today."

David balled his fists at his waist, posing like a superhero about to take flight. His breath shown in the cold air and the scent of someone's welding torch tickled his nose as the sounds of saws and drills filled the air. "Yes, she is okay. As much as…She's stubborn as hell."

"Aye," Killian said with a little shrug. "That she is."

Two men were struggling with a hand truck and two heavy crates, their words giving new credence to the phrase cuss like a sailor. David watched them a moment before turning to Killian and jutting his chin out toward the ladder. "Is there some place we can talk?"

Again the dark haired man nodded. "I'd say below deck, but it's busy around here. I know a place around the corner. Some coffee maybe?"

David was about to complain that he didn't want to be kept up by caffeine, but it was election day. At the very least he would be burdened to stay awake through the returns and the party. Following Killian, he jumped onto the dock and then made his way past the other workers. A few of them nodded as though they recognized him, but most were too busy to be bothered. Killian mentioned something about campaigning and then disappeared behind a cloudy glass door with a neon sign fashioned into a coffee cup with steam blinking in the window.

Like David, Killian drank his coffee black and sipped slowly on it. He clearly wanted to ask something more after Emma, but he was holding back. "I imagined you would be busy today too."

Huffing out something that almost sounded like a laugh, David curled his hand around the coffee cup. "My father, bastard that he is, knows a lot about elections. He claimed that if you were still campaigning on election day that you were a damn fool and an amateur. People already know who they will vote for at the polls. A few handshakes or bumper stickers won't change that now."

"A bit like selling a boat," Killian said with that same soundless chuckle. "You have to know when to quit selling. You have to know when you've driven home every benefit and perk. At some point people are either going to buy or they won't. You can't force it." He sipped down a bit of the bitter coffee and resisted the urge to make a face. Emma would hate it, preferring the sickeningly sweet hot chocolate.

"Emma probably hates this place," David said, looking around at the faded posters of typical breakfast fare and the limited list of coffee options – two to be exact. "She's a Starbucks girl."

His blue eyes crinkled again, picturing her with her cup of specialty coffee, hiding the label with her gloved hand. She always seemed embarrassed by that one little luxury that he would have gladly shared with her for the rest of their lives. "I don't think you came calling about some coffee, mate," Killian said, forcing David's attention. "So why are you here?"

"Can't say I'm here about the coffee," the sheriff agreed, wincing with another sip. "But I am here about Emma."

Killian closed his eyes at the sound of her name, cringing. "She's not okay?"

"Physically? She's fine. But she's a wreck emotionally. And I know she probably pushed you away like the rest of us have been pushed. She's prone to that – stop them before they hurt you." He took another sip, whether by habit or need. "People have been leaving her all her life. And it's easier in her mind, if the leaving is brought on by her. That way…"

"That way she doesn't have to worry that she wasn't good enough for me to stay? Funny thing, Dave, I wasn't going anywhere. I was planning to stay right here." His eyes were a bit bloodshot and his skin darker beneath them as if he had been having problems sleeping.

David nodded his head knowingly, lifting the paper cup up to his mouth and lowering it before he took another sip. "And she told you to go."

"She practically pushed me out the door while screaming about it," he said, nervously pulling at the collar of his deep blue shirt. "Told me that she wasn't going to stand in my way. Never even believed me when I said I didn't want to go."

Again the sheriff seemed to recognize this in Emma, knowing it to be true. David held up a single hand. "I know Emma. I know that her greatest fear is people leaving her. Hell, she took my leaving for college worse than Mary Margaret and my mother combined. She stood there screaming for me to go and then cried when I did. When I graduated and came home she ignored me, said her life had moved on and that I should too."

"Sounds bloody familiar," Killian muttered. "She claims that everything will be back to normal when I got back from this trip, but I know that it won't. I know that those damn walls will be back." He stared at the coffee as though it offended him.

"Do you know where her name comes from?" David asked, ignoring the bewildered look from Killian as he opened another pack of sugar to try to sweeten the liquid tar in the paper cup.

"The name Emma is German, I believe," the darker haired man said thoughtfully, wondering why this was the new topic of conversation. "Something about universal?"

David's eyes closed and he drew in a sharp breath before he said anything. "I meant Swan and not the meaning of it," he hastily added. Killian shook his head, muttering about his head being filled with useless knowledge. "Emma was adopted as a baby. A couple with the last name of Swan."

Killian nodded his head, recalling her brief admission that she had been abandoned on the side of a road. He had not pressed her for details, instead swallowing the rage that anyone would dare do that to a baby and feeling admiration for the way she had grown past those beginnings to a resilient woman with a strong sense of self. David's eyes were boring into him, seeming to beg him to ask the question. "What happened to them?"

"Emma doesn't say much about those years. I'm not sure how much she actually remembers and how much was just hearsay, but from what I was told the Swans found out they were expecting a child. They gave up Emma, taking her to an orphanage and dropping her off like unwanted clothes to a charity."

Using every bit of strength inside him, Killian bit back the urge to curse at the idea of the beautiful child being given back, made to feel unwanted and not worth of the love that all children deserved. Part of him wanted to rush to her and hold her in his arms until she realized just how wanted and needed she was to him. The other part wanted to find this Swan family and destroy them for the way they broke her. If he thought about it hard enough, he could see that it was them and not just Neal who obliterated her self-confidence and trust. He did his fair share, but they were the ones who first taught her that she might not be enough.

"She would kill me for saying this, but damn it I'm going to explain this so you don't get on that ship next week and take off with the idea that she is fine and dandy with your absence. She's used to people leaving her. She can probably say goodbye in 40 languages by now. And your leaving – even if it is just for this short time won't break her. It won't kill her. She's stronger than that. But it will change her."

Killian could see how much David was struggling to balance his admiration for Emma with that protective streak he had inside. "I don't want to leave her," Killian said more emphatically. "If she would come with me, I'd welcome here in a heartbeat. If she wanted me to stay, I'd do so without hesitation. But she seems to push me away with both hands. And frankly, David, I'm not sure she is going to allow me to fight for her."

"Do you need permission for that?" David asked, his smirk fading into a frown. "Killian, I am not here to tell you what to do. I don't know that myself. I don't know how to tell you to get her to understand. If I knew how to get through to women, I'd have married Mary Margaret years ago. I'd know how to…well, I don't know. I don't know how to make Emma understand. But I do think you actually and genuinely love her and care about her. So I can't let you just sit here and pretend like Emma's going to have some epiphany while at Granny's or sitting alone at my election night party."

Killian leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "David, forgive me for not coming out and screaming to the world that I love Emma. It's not a word that comes easily to me, no easier than the sentiment itself. But I truly believed that Emma was worth that. I felt she was worth the fight and worth the stress of having to learn how to put someone else first. Because no matter how natural it feels to put Emma first, I struggle. And I don't know how to fight every moment of every day to prove to her that I'm not Neal. I'm not going to hurt her."

His mouth falling open a bit, David mimicked Killian's posture in the chair. "Are you saying it might not be worth the fight? That maybe Emma isn't worth…"

"No," Killian growled out harshly, interrupting the man Emma viewed as her brother. "Emma's worth more than any discomfort I feel or any stress I might endure. And I hoped…hope…that she feels the same about me. You see, Emma isn't the only one to know what it's like to feel abandoned and alone. My own father left my brother and I to fend for ourselves. He left us with a sick mother and not a clue as to how to survive. We did it because we had to do it, but those things…that abandonment…it leaves scars. I see them in Emma and I see them in the mirror."

David was still stirring his coffee, more out of excess energy than necessity. He expelled a breath. "I'm not a therapist," he said with a short laugh. "I barely passed psychology and never would have made it in forensic behavior. But it seems to me that you and Emma have a lot in common, maybe so much that you both have a hard time seeing the other person's flaws."

Killian tilted his head and listened to the man. "I'm listening."

"Again, this is just 16 weeks of intro to psych and a few mandatory sessions with Archie that the state requires sometimes," the man rambled. "But sometimes when we see ourselves in someone it is harder to see their flaws. Maybe it is that if we admit their flaws we have to admit our own."

Killian smirked. "That's pretty heavy for 16 weeks, mate."

***AAA***

It wasn't an election party without red, white, and blue decorations. Mary Margaret and Ruby had gone overboard with them from the balloons and crepe paper to the tiny flags hidden in the centerpieces of red and white flowers in blue vases. As the polls closed at 7 that evening, the friends and supporters of David began to file into diner. Spirits were high and Granny's somewhat lessened crew hustled about serving food and offering drinks.

"I think we may have done it," Ruby said, linking her arm through Emma's and guiding the two of them to a table. "The power of team work." The brunette bumped her hip into her blonde friend to the beat of the music that played from a juke box.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Emma said sullenly, her eyes flitting toward the door as Leroy entered. "Votes still have to be counted." She grabbed one of the baskets of onion rings that were being passed around and slipped out of Ruby's grasp to munch in the corner. She knew this had been a bad idea, as she was not in a partying mood. But it was a work thing, as well as a party to celebrate the man who had saved her more times than she could count.

Not to be deterred, Ruby slid in the booth across from her and delicately pulled one of the fried items from the basket. Followed by one of the women from the church who everyone nicknamed Blue for some unknown reason and a blonder than normal Katheryn.

"It's not such a bad thing, you know?" Kathryn said, shaking her head at the idea of a fried dish. The blonde's name had been brought up a few times recently for a possible appointment to Spencer Nolan's unfilled term as district attorney. She was young and inexperienced, but the woman was driven and most assumed the position would be hers eventually.

Chewing thoughtfully, Emma waited for someone to ask. When no one did, the blonde swallowed and gave her friend a sardonically curious look before turning to Kathryn. "What isn't such a bad thing?"

"Pushing Killian back a little. I mean it sucks for him, but you're just sort of testing him, right? Seeing if he comes back to you?" I mean that's what this is all about right? Why else would you send him away?" It was a sarcastic note, one that was hardly serious and yet even Ruby sat there expecting an answer. People couldn't help but look at her. A red silk slip dress clung to her curves with a black lace overlay on top of it. She paired with some of the highest heels that Emma had ever seen. Her dark hair lay in waving curls down her back, face perfectly painted and her nails a deep shade of red.

"I'm not playing a game," Emma protested, feeling mildly annoyed that Ruby would think such a thing. "I'm just trying to give him the opportunity to do what he's meant to do."

"Right," Ruby drawled out, jumping in where Kathryn left off. "And this has nothing to do with that saying about seeing if he returns to you and that meaning it is true love." The woman nodded to herself. "Of course it is just about him finding his happiness."

Emma groaned and looked about the room to see if she recognized anyone else, seeking a reprieve. Mr. Clark had closed the pharmacy early and along with a man everyone called Doc was talking to Granny. Aurora was bouncing her son on one hip as she nibbled on a cookie. Ashley and her husband were in an animated conversation with John. Robin and his son were trying out the new pinball machine that Granny had included in the diner.

"He's not here yet," Ruby continued. "Doesn't mean anything though. I mean you did…"

"Enough!" Emma glared at her friend. "You are practically bipolar. The other day you were saying I'm wonderful and deserving of love and today you're…"

"Teasing you," Ruby finished. "I'm sorry, Emma. I am trying to figure out what's going on with you. You and Killian seemed to be moving in the right direction. And now?"

Emma didn't answer right away, grateful for Fredrick's arrival that distracted Kathryn away and Blue's rush to greet another friend that left Ruby the only guest at the table Emma had sat at for the evening. The two stared at each other for a moment longer before Ruby again asked what was supposed to happen next.

Emma blinked in her friend's direction, resisting the urge to tell her that her crystal ball was at the shop. "Now? I don't know. I wasn't testing him. I'm not that kind of person, but, Ruby…What if he doesn't come back?"

***AAA***

Killian paced in front of the vintage clothing store, its windows dark and the street silent. A few people milled about in front of Granny's, but none lingered long with the temperature dropping radically. Already the sky was spitting snow and his ability to stay outdoors was severely limited.

Henry and Regina had arrived just a few minutes before. And feeling a bit like a stalker, Killian watched the young boy embrace his blonde mother with a tight hug. Her face had turned from an impassive frown to a smile as she nuzzled into his tousled hair and listened to something Regina had to say.

"You do realize it is way too cold to be this stubborn?" Graham asked, startling Killian as he approached. The man's swagger deterred as he sidestepped a slick spot on the concrete. His smile is friendly but a little nervous as he sticks out his hand in greeting.

"You're here for the festivities?" he asked, ignoring the fact that it is an obvious question. But there seemed something awkward about the former competition attending the party of the other candidate. "I guess you are."

Graham shifted toward the curb, watching a few more people enter. "I wasn't sure where to go," he admitted. "I cancelled my own event and it seemed I would be a bit of a recluse to hide away in my room." He glanced again at the door with a wistful expression. "But now that I'm here it's not such an easy proposition."

"Aye," Killian said as though he fully understood how the man who could have become sheriff felt. "I need to offer my congratulations to David, but Emma…"

"I never took you for a coward. To hear Tink talk about you have the reputation of a daring and scrupulous man. Emma talks about you like you are practically perfect. So I am a little surprised you're hiding in plain sight and waiting on what? An engraved invitation?"

The two men stood there on the sidewalk, neither taking a step toward or away from Granny's, speaking of the upcoming mission with Tink and Graham's addition to the team. They were both caught up in that discussion, hands dug into their pockets and cheeks reddening in the wind as the snowflakes grew fatter and wetter when Ruby appeared to carry out a bag of trash under her grandmother's direction.

"You two are pathetic," she decried, her hand on a jutted out hip. With a cursory glance at the street to check for traffic, she saunters across to them with both two stunned to move. While they have been shivering, she did not show the ill effects of the water even without a coat or wrap. Her eyes skipped from one to the other as if she was trying to decide who to chastise first.

Graham's tentative smile seemed to be the invitation she needed. "David's not arrived yet, but I'm thinking he's going to be happy to see you. Go in and get something to eat." His mouth opened to protest and she waved it off. "Granny will kick your butt if you stand out here and starve in this cold because of pride. Now go be a man."

Then she whirled her attention on Killian, eyeing him from head to toe. "Are you going to talk to her?" she asked accusingly. "Because she is in there pretending like she doesn't want you to do that but looking at the door every time the bell rings. It's annoying and a little bit pathetic."

"I didn't mean to…"

Ruby's eye rolls were only second to Emma's. "You think I don't know that? I'm not her body guard, but I'm here friend. And as her friend, I'm telling you to swallow whatever it is keeping you outside while she's in there." Her fingers toyed with her hair for a moment as she again eyed him. "She doesn't tell people how she feels about them often."

Killian closed his eyes for a second, willing himself to say something to Ruby that was a bit more substantial than telling her to mind her business. "I realize how much of a privilege that is, lass, but I don't intend to discuss such sentiments while I'm standing out here freezing my arse off."

Ruby's laugh was louder than he was used to hearing from a woman, her amusement at his obvious discomfort. "Are you planning to leave?" she asked abruptly. "I mean with Tink."

He shook his head no. "She won't let me tell her that, arguing that I'm missing out on opportunities and bound to regret it." His eyes caught sight of Emma standing with her back to the window, greeting Graham. "Perhaps she will get the point when they ship off and I'm still here."

Ruby followed his gaze and watched the blonde greet and then retreat back to her corner. "She's always been more of a show than tell kind of girl. But that may be a bit much. Thought about talking to her?"

Her suggestion was so obvious that he couldn't help laughing at the absurdity of it. "I might try that next."

***AAA***

Graham rested his elbows on the counter, facing outward with a beer that someone had shoved into his hand upon entering. Occasionally he took a drink or gave a nod to someone, but he could tell that most people were ignoring him and unable to come up with something to say to him. Were congratulations on his new job in order? What about a consolation that he had lost his first political race.

"So when were you going to tell me?" she asked, facing the opposite direction as she sat on a stool and pretended that the cook frying up the orders was more interesting than the three dozen or so people at the party. He didn't answer, which she took as evidence that he didn't understand her question. "When were you going to tell me you quit your job?"

His head lolled back as though she had punched him, a gasp exhaling quickly. "I didn't quit exactly," he clarified before taking another sip from the brown glass bottle that most people poured into a mug. "Consider it an extended leave of absence."

She nodded again, still not looking at him but rather Granny who was chastising some poor server's footwear choice on a cold and yet busy night. "You're going on your adventure." She tried to sound wistful but it wasn't convincing.

"That I am," he said, finally turning from his profile to study hers. "I'm going to miss you, Robin, John, even David. But this is…"

"An opportunity of a lifetime," she echoed, sadly glancing down at her hands. "I realize that. You're going to be amazing. She's lucky to have you." Pressing her lips together tightly, she knew she was pretending again to be satisfied and fine when she wasn't. "I was trying to get you on with the state police, you know. They have some…"

He took another long sip and licked his lips of the moisture before he spoke. "It's a good opportunity, but it's not the only one, you know? There are things…other things…that one could do. But this is right for me. Not for everyone, but for me."

Her hands curled around the edge of the counter and she pushed backwards. "It's a lovely thought," she said, "but this is Killian's dream too. He wants to feel validated, needed, and like he is giving something back. He's like you in that way." She couldn't help the blush that formed, evidence that she did realize he had been talking about himself and not her boyfriend.

"I knew we had a connection. You went out and found yourself a boyfriend who reminded me you of me." He was clearly teasing, playing off that drunken night when both wondered if there might be more between them and wondered even more than friendship. However, like with all things in her life, Emma had hesitated and the two had realized their connection was not romantic in nature. Lust was possible, but working afterward would have been awkward.

"You're going to miss Christmas," she noted. "It's one of your favorite holidays."

Like her, Graham was a little low on the number of family members. She cannot recall him ever mentioning one and more often than not spent the holidays with Mary Margaret and David or working. Still he was generous to a fault and usually bought the most thoughtful gifts for his coworkers and friends. He had bought her a modern thermos for hot chocolate one year and a variety pack of k-cups for her machine so she could decide what flavor she liked best.

"It will be tough, but I plan to finish my gift shopping this week. Then you all can help yourselves." He was proud of that hidden trait, one that kept him emailing with Mary Margaret and on the receiving end of phone calls from the mall.

"Always prepared," she declared. "A regular boy scout."

She might have said more, asked more questions, but Ruby grabbed a somewhat stunned Graham by the hand and led him to the dance floor area – ok it was just some tables and chairs pushed aside. Ruby was doing her best to make it into a spectacle, her hands resting on the usually stoic hips of the deputy and guiding him through some of her favorite moves. Emma appreciated the brunette's boldness and after checking her texts to and from David and Mary Margaret, considered a move outside for some air but deciding against it.

***AAA***

Two more songs played before she saw him enter, shaking off a few of the fat snowflakes from his dark hair before he sought her out. Reminding herself that she had told him nothing would change in his absence, she tried to smile at him, but it felt forced and probably looked psychotic. Maybe that was what drew him in, walking toward her with purpose and dodging the various guests who were biding their time waiting on David.

"I thought you were going to be busy," she said when he was about two feet from her. "Lots to do before…"

His smile, tentative as it was, fell as she began to list all the things he should be doing to leave. He had already told her that he wasn't leaving, but that only seemed to anger her that he would consider not taking the opportunity. "Love," he said, clenching his fist rather than reaching out to touch her. "I'm not here to argue with you so let's drop the topic."

She opened her mouth, more than likely to protest his offer. However, there is something in his eyes that could not be ignored. Holding out her hand, she provides a little bit of a peace offering. "Dance?"

"I'd love to," he told her, clasping her hand in his and leading her over to that same area. Their moves were not as provocative as Ruby's, but he held her tight against him and for a moment both believed that he wouldn't let go.


	32. Chapter 32

Emma's cheeks hurt from smiling, the number of photographs being taken were numbering more than 100. It was even pointed out by Mary Margaret that this was nothing compared to Saturday's wedding for the couple. However, Emma stood there proudly with David and his fiancé, enjoying her friends' celebratory moods. While her pride in David's leadership and her gratitude for Graham were on display, Emma admittedly had not fully spoken to Killian about everything that had gone down. So when she emerged from the facilities after the party had wound down, she was slightly surprised to find him chatting with Granny and waiting on her.

"Oh," she said with a tiny gasp. "You're still here?"

He pulled back his phone and gave a smile to the older woman who had been staring at the screen. "Till next time Mrs. Lucas?" The older woman adjusted her glasses and smiled one of those rare grins before sauntering back into the kitchen with an order to get the dishes washed. "I had hoped we might talk."

"You want to talk?" She was repeating him, echoing his words as though he might interpret that as a conversation. It was a long shot, but she tried. Tried and failed.

He handed her the jacket she had left on the bench seat in the corner, holding it out in a way that she could step right into it. She did so out of reflex, lifting up her blond hair as he adjusted it on her shoulders. His hands lingered about her shoulders a bit longer than necessary before she turned to face him. "I take it you want to talk someplace else."

He smiled at the obviousness of the half statement and half question, which made her wonder if he had any control of the way his eyebrow would arch as if able to convey messages on its own. There was something always playful and challenging about him. And for a moment she flashed back to that same look over her in bed or between her thighs. It was so familiar and so much a part of him that she honestly didn't know if he even realized he did it.

"I believe Mrs. Lucas would like to close up," he said, scratching behind his ear a little nervously. "We could go…"

Holding up one finger she moved around the counter and stood on her toes so that she could stretch her arms into the kitchen. After a quick word with the proprietress, she carried the brown paper sack over to Killian and tilted her head to the door. "Leftovers," she explained, lifting the bag. "My place?"

The steam from their matching mugs of hot tea rose from the small table in Emma's kitchen and mingled in the air between them as they both stirred and stared into the depths of the murkiness. David's victory had been confirmed a few hours before, the party kicking in then with more music, hugs, celebratory toasts, and plenty of pictures being taken. Though Killian had stayed by her side through the party, Emma had brushed off his attempts to talk about their issues by telling him it was David's night.

"You do realize I am okay with you going," Emma said, breaking the silence with a crack in her voice. "I know it's your dream." Her blonde hair that had been so intricately braided now hung in even more pronounced waves over her shoulders and the delicate heels she had worn were the first things she had kicked off upon entering.

He chuckled lowly, lifting the mug to his lips and sipping before he responded. "Do you know what I was sitting here thinking?" he asked. She shook her head. "These past couple of months with you have felt like a dream. You are everything I have ever wanted and then some. And you are certainly more wonderful than a few weeks on a ship with a bunch of philanthropists and do-gooders. Darling, I can write a check to Tink and get the same…"

Stirring at the amber liquid in her mug again, Emma cringed. "You don't replace your dream with another, not that easily," she said. "Why won't you see that everything will be the same when you get back? Do you not trust me to be here? Do you think I'm going to go sleep with another man? What is it?" Her lacquered nails on one hand drug across the table.

"I trust you implicitly," he said, raising his blue eyes to meet her gaze. "But you must admit that things wouldn't be the same. They aren't the same now and that's because we've been fighting over this." Somehow, even across the table, he managed to look at her with such intensity that she almost shuddered under his gaze. "Love, I'm not afraid of what we will become if I was to be absent for a bit. I'm not a coward about such things."

"Then why?" Her green eyes were soft and less stubborn, but still she had clearly decided that he was hiding something from her.

He settled back into the chair, one arm still resting on the table with the sleeve of his shirt pushed toward his elbow. "Do you know how I became a salesman?" he asked, ignoring her look of annoyance that he wasn't directly answering her question. "I came to Storybrooke to start over, to get away from memories that hurt, and to find a new beginning. I wasn't interested in the outcome so much as long as it was different than the past. I was hardly an honorable man, but I kept to myself and existed through the days. I wasn't living, only existing."

The pause in his statement gave Emma her own pause as she tried to remember if she'd ever even asked about that part of his life. She knew of how it felt to feel alone in a world that was not always friendly to the unattached. "What changed?"

Killian went on to explain meeting Eric and Ariel, who had, despite his protests, had wormed their way into his life. Ariel had been the most determined, slapping some sense into him when he became too melancholy or desperate. Eric had not invited him to begin the job, but forced it upon him in a gentle but stern way. "He drug me along on sales calls, complained he was too busy and then asked for help. Soon I didn't even realize that I was working there because I didn't remember not doing it. It became a habit."

"And you don't like it?" Emma prodded.

"It's not that I hate it," he explained, his face contorting under the pressure of finding the right words. "I simply don't feel anything about it usually. I suppose that being with you has brought some of this out."

Her head tilted to one side, the golden waves cascading downward. While it was not her design, she reached out to stroke the back of his hand on the table, not aware of her action until he was smiling at her hand covering his. "Are you saying I'm the reason you hate your job?" she asked, brow furrowing. "Am I the reason you want to stay?"

There was a certain tenderness to the way his left hand reached out to cover hers, creating a near pile of limbs there on the table. "Emma, you have not brought out anything was not already there, love," he answered reassuringly. "You see, I look at you and see a woman who is so brave, sure, and dedicated to her career that she practically glows. I saw how you were on that case to help Elsa. I see how proud you are and how proud others are of you. But mostly, love, I have come to feel so much for you that it dulls other things in my life. And it encourages me to look for more in my life so that I might feel that way again. Because I want to be the man that my brother would want me to be. Who you would want me to be. And I don't think that it requires my captaining a ship to do so."

"Then why not go with Tink? You'd…"

"Because it is not what I wish to do," he said. "This thing that Tink is doing is noble, but it would be quite reckless of me to give up all that I have for an adventure that would not completely satisfy my desire for more in my life."

She didn't jerk back her hand, stilling the motions for a moment as she let his words sink over her. She had, as he said, presumed to know his heart and desires when she didn't truly know. It was a sad state that left her feeling as though she should have known more, done more to protect him and save him. She'd been more concerned about herself. "So you don't want to go on this with Tink and Graham. What do you want to do?"

It seemed a question more for someone in college or someone with not much experience. But he took it well. "I was considering some options here in Storybrooke."

"Are you staying because of me?" she asked. The question was imply worded, but she was nervous to ask it. He had danced around the answer already and she needed to know. When he didn't answer at first, pulled her own courage from within. "I know that it is more complicated than that, Killian, but you're putting a lot of pressure on me. Maybe it isn't even you. It's me. It's everyone telling me how great we are together. It's everyone expecting me to be happy."

"You're not happy?" He could have sworn she was happy, sworn that she was not scared any longer. Maybe he was wrong.

Her fingers twisted and her nostrils flared. "Of course I am. You make me happy. My job, my friends, my life makes me happy, even if it doesn't come as naturally to me. I just don't think I'm up for being responsible for your happiness," she said, her eyes brimming with tears. "I see how I am about you. If you're having a good day then I feel good too. But is the reverse true because I don't know how to handle that?"

While he could see the hope evident in her from the way she leaned toward him and the way her eyebrows lifted, he still shook his head no. "As much as you are a reason for my desire to stay, you're also a factor in my wanting to be a better man. I want to be worthy of you, Emma. And if shipping off to parts unknown would do that, I'd gladly pack my belongings. But my love, I want to stay because it feels the right thing to do. I can't presume to know what will happen in the future, but I know that want that future with you. I want that future to include you." He cleared his throat. "But the real reason I wish to avoid this trip and this job for Tink is that I am not the same man that she remembers as daring and adventurous. I'm not as naïve as I was, nor as reckless. I don't think that is a bad thing."

Her eyes closed as if that news was more than she could handle, more than her mind could take in as he watched her with a hopeful expression that imitated her own. "I don't like this," she said, barely loud enough for him to make out. "This was supposed to be what you wanted, your dream. And I don't want to see you hurting because you think I'm too weak to handle you leaving."

"I don't think you're weak, my love. Quite the contrary. I'm in awe of your strength, in love with your goodness, and fascinated by your intelligence. Weak is not a word I would use to describe you." The fondness in his words was evident, as was the sparkle about his eyes. "You don't seem to see it, but you are simply brilliant. I want to make you see that and believe it too."

Her expression twisted and she fell back against the chair. "I wish I could believe you, but no matter what I still have that voice inside me that says this isn't going to end well for me. I'm going to end up alone. Before I met you, I was okay with that. I was okay with knowing I'd be an aunt to David and Mary Margaret's kids. I'd be meeting Ruby for drinks and watching reruns of Sex and the City with her. I'd go out on bad dates and sneak out through the bathroom window. But you make me want more. I love that, but I don't like feeling this way. I don't like that I feel sick to my stomach at the idea of you leaving. I hate that you have that power. You could crush me, destroy me, and yet I still…I still want you. I still love you."

"And I love you too, Emma. I can't lose sight of the privilege it is to love you. I'm a lucky bloke to have you in my life, Emma. And perhaps that is the start of the adventure I'm meant for instead."

Her face paled a bit at the implication, but she didn't run. That was somewhat of a victory. "Maybe I have an idea," she said slowly.

"I'm all ears, love." He took another sip of the now cooling liquid in his mug. He had to admit he had noticed that she had chosen to serve him his comfort drink rather than her own, forgoing the chocolate or coffee for the tea that he had pointed out on a shopping trip once was the same that his mother preferred.

"You still think that David's idea about the water safety and search and rescue equipment is important to the city and the department?" she asked, recalling the work he had done to try to get the city to procure it. "I know that didn't go well with the screw up on the proper paperwork, but what if…what if it did work. The city would need someone who could manage such a tactical unit. Maybe…"

Killian looked suspiciously as her. "Me work for the city?"

"Well, it might need to be a bigger operation than that. Many of the neighboring cities haven't had enough money to do this either. So if everyone were to come together…"

"It could work as a joint venture." He let his eyes close for a minute as if imagining the situation. "It could work."

As his eyes opened he was greeted with Emma's beatific smile that always signaled some sort of victory. "I was wrong about you," she said grimly. "When I first met you, I assumed you were one of those guys always looking for the easy way. I kind of assumed you'd disappear after I finally gave in and slept with you."

It was his turn to laugh and smile at her semi-confession. "Assumed or hoped, love? I seem to recall you were not exactly seeking my attention. I thought you would never answer that first text I sent you."

Pretending to think about that for a second, Emma didn't let her smile falter. "Maybe I sort of already liked you from the bar."

***AAA***

The morning light reflected brightly off the fresh blanket of snow as Emma stood at the living room window with her robe knotted around her waist and a throw blanket over her shoulders. She was surprised to even be awake, but truthfully she had done little more than doze. Killian had been willing to talk about the issue of his future and plans with her so she had listened. While she was still nervous at his words and the responsibility she felt, she had conceded that she was willing to try.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked when she heard his footsteps behind her. "I mean this is a major change."

"David said he was willing to hear us out." His accent was thicker in the morning with the sleep thick voice still struggling to surface. "And I do know a thing or two about ships and water, love."

"He'll listen. I still think this is a good idea." Her eyes still stared out at the roadway below, a single set of tracks from a car on an early morning trek to work probably. "I made you some tea," she said absently.

Kissing her cheek, he moved toward the kitchen where he found the mug waiting on him with a bit of toast and soft pile of scrambled eggs. His eyebrows raised as he dug the waiting fork into the food. "Breakfast?"

"You're not the only one who can cook," she muttered, stalking across the short area between the living room and kitchen to grab her own plate. "I have survived more than two decades without your culinary expertise."

There was a comfortable quietness that fell over them as they chewed and ate, slightly tinged with nervousness that was punctuated with Emma looking back at her phone. She had texted David the night before when she'd had the idea, inviting him over that morning. He'd balked at first at the hour, but eventually agreed when she insisted on its importance.

"I should not feel so nervous about this, love," Killian said, sliding the knife across the toast. "But it is not every day…"

"You'll be fine," Emma said, cutting him off as there was a short rap at the door signaling David's arrival. "Just don't get so nervous that you call him sir or something."

David's smile was warm as he hugged and kissed Emma's cheek and clapped Killian on the back of his shoulder before collapsing into one of the seats. After a brief teasing that they had not waited breakfast on him, he earned a groan from Emma as she disappeared into the kitchen to fix him a plate with the bacon she knew he would want more than anything.

"You look cozy?" David said, hesitating on the word and hoping it wasn't a set up. "But I don't think you called me over to see that."

Killian nodded his head and wiped his fingers on a napkin before he brought up the subject of the equipment and his possible role in that. David, while not thrilled to revisit the issue that could have been an ethical dilemma had Regina not stepped in, he listened, asked a few questions, and kept his face stoic. To her credit, Emma let Killian speak and stayed in the background while he did. She was hopeful that he felt her support. Later, after David left and asked that Killian meet him at Regina's office, Emma uncharacteristically sat in Killian's lap.

"I'm proud of you," she said with a smile.

His initial reaction was to scoff at her compliment. "For what, love? I have done nothing more than used a connection to try to obtain a new job. You heard him. It's going to pay less, require longer hours, and probably be the source of quite a bit of stress. But the opportunity is what I want so there's that."

He held her loosely as she toyed with his hair. "Maybe we do make a good team?"

"I've always said that, but maybe now we can prove it."

***AAA***

Emma slid through the narrow opening in the door, careful not to let the yellow dress catch on anything with its delicate lacey fabric. Two fingers delicately touching her lips, she fell back against the wooden door, letting it close behind her as she watched Ruby adjust the fingertip veil over Mary Margaret's face.

"You look beautiful," Emma said, smiling at her friends. "Absolutely beautiful."

"And you," Ruby said, shifting her glance between the clock on the wall and Emma, "look late."

"And guilty," the bride added. Pulling back from Ruby to inspect Emma a little better, the teacher's discerning eyes dragged along the blonde across the room. The dress fit her curves perfectly with the a-line design cinching at her waist. Her blonde hair was curled in a princess style, with the sides making a thick twisted braid that wrapped the top of her head. However, her cheeks were a bit too pink and the lipstick that the three women had chosen was a bit smudged. "Where's Killian?"

Emma didn't dignify that question with a response, passing the two women to reapply and touch up her make up at the mirror. However, Mary Margaret, who had managed to wear her mother's dress, grandmother's veil, and Ruth's silvery white shoes, was not about to give up on her. "Celebrating?"

"It's your wedding day," Emma said, brushing off her friend's veiled accusation. "Aren't we supposed to be…"

Ruby rolled her eyes again, bumping her similarly clothed hip against Emma's before inspecting her own appearance in the mirror. "Give her a break, Mary Margaret," she chastised lightly. "So she snuck off with her boyfriend. Who cares? It wasn't like she missed anything." Ruby turned quickly, eyes narrowing at Emma. "But seriously? Making out in a church?"

"I was looking for her earrings," Emma said pointedly. "The ones she said she couldn't get married without having?"

"With your mouth? Because I don't usually look for jewelry that way," Ruby countered, pursing her painted lips. "Or did you get distracted?"

Mary Margaret's giggle bounced off the walls of the bridal chamber, echoing slightly as she shifted. "We're embarrassing her," she warned Ruby. She reached out both her hands and wiggled her fingers at her friends. "So I want to talk to both of you."

Suppressing a groan, Ruby joined hands with her friend and sighed dramatically. "Is this where you tell us that nothing is going to change because you're getting married? That we'll always have Saturday morning brunch to gossip even when you're pushing a baby carriage and won't have mimosas because you're nursing or something?"

"We'll start having them at her and David's place, in between the toys and yells of 'no' and 'stop that,'" Emma added. "We'll have to come up with code names for things because kids have big ears and always hear what you don't want them to hear." Her fingers curled with the bride's.

"I wanted to talk to you about the baby," Mary Margaret said in exasperation. "But you're right, everything will change now that I'm getting married and Emma's taking more time with Henry and practically living with Killian." She smiled warmly at both her friends. "Now we just need to get Ruby settled into a relationship instead of dating her way up and down the Eastern Seaboard."

"I don't do blind dates," Ruby protested. "So don't even think about that."

"What about that furniture guy you were trying to set me up with?" Emma asked as if she was just remembering that moment. "Walton? Washington? Walsh! That's it! Walsh!"

The brunette attendant's nose wrinkled in distaste. "Not my type," she spat. "He's such a bore."

The bride squeezed both their hands. "I don't want to remind the two of you that this my day, but it is. Bride in her wedding gown here. People about to watch me walk down the aisle." She pretended to look annoyed, but couldn't help the smile that cracked through her features. "And I want to talk to the two of you."

Both attendants ducked their heads in mock shame and muttered apologies before Mary Margaret continued. "So we don't know for sure about the sex of the baby, but we're thinking this is going to be a girl." Her eyes lit up as she said it, knowing that both women knew she had been not so secretly dreaming of a baby girl in lacey pink dresses and bows. Emma had even joked that it would be hilarious if the teacher got her wish only for the child to be a tomboy. "And Ruby, we want you to be the godmother."

"Me?" Ruby asked incredulously. "Wait? Is this an attempt to get me to go to church more? Or are you trying to tie me down with responsibility or something?"

"No, we want you to be her godmother and help shape and mold her into a beautiful and strong woman because that's who you are. We couldn't think of anyone better for the job." Tears were pooling in the teacher's eyes, threatening to fall.

Still staring in disbelief, her mouth open a bit. "What about Emma? She'd be better…"

"Emma will always be Aunt Emma," Mary Margaret explained, sharing a tender look with the blonde. "And we were thinking that if this is a girl, we'd like to name her Emma. That way her life is made up of the strongest women we know."

***AAA***

If Emma thought about it much more, she might actually go mad. There was Henry twirling around in a strange dance with his future stepmother Tamera. There was no rhythm to it and no sign of any formal steps, but they were laughing with heads thrown back and the subject of a cell phone video shot by Neal. The bride was in a conversation with the woman the groom's father had been trying to set him up with for years. The groom was acting out music video scenes with his coworkers, including an imitation of the Backstreet Boys that Emma knew her mind would never unsee. Killian seemed to be in a deep conversation with Regina, who had already told him twice that she did not do city business at social events or on the weekends. Ruby was either flirting with Graham or was seriously considering a career change to flower arranging for all the attention she was paying to the centerpiece. Even Granny was dancing with some older gentleman, an apron still on and what looked like a spatula in her hand like a scepter. There was just something so odd and out of place about the whole situation, a surreal existence for a woman who would forever characterize herself as a loner.

Her feet aching from the uncomfortable shoes that the bride had picked, Emma had already kicked one off and the other was dangling from her toes as she giggled at her son's latest attempt at a dance move. "Can I convince you to let me glide you across the floor?"

Emma felt his lips on her temple, closing her eyes briefly at the contact. "Maybe in a few," she said, trying not to think about putting her shoes back on her feet. "Any news to report?"

Killian pushed the chair closer to her before sitting on it, his leg brushing against hers. "Regina has signed a memorandum of understanding with a few of the local municipalities." He gestured toward the mayor with his half full glass of champagne. "Looks as though we are a go."

Never accused as being a squealer, Emma shocked her boyfriend as she threw herself into his arms. "I'm proud of you."

***AAA***

The mirror in the restroom at the Storybrooke Courthouse was crowded as Ruby, Emma, and very pregnant Mary Margaret stood around it with hair and makeup brushes in hand. There were the occasional compliments, but more often than not it was Ruby dictating how they should wear their hair and how best to match their color palates.

"You look lovely, Emma," Mary Margaret said. Already the girls had been teasing her over the way she sounded like everyone's mother. She meddled. She prodded. She soothed. She encouraged. While it was a running joke, all the women appreciated it. "I think this dress was the right choice."

Emma glanced in the mirror again, the dress in question clinging in just the right way to her curves. While most of her clothes were dark with occasional splashes of color, the dress she wore was a soft shade of pale yellow that almost seemed like antique ivory. The empire waist of the dress cinched just under Emma's breasts and the full skirt brushed just above her knees. It was hardly her usual wardrobe for work, but Mary Margaret had found it in a vintage store and insisted it was perfect for the ceremony.

It took another few minutes before the three of them exited the small and cramped space and be greeted by a beaming David. After a quick kiss to his wife, David enveloped Emma in a hug to the echoes of Ruby and Mary Margaret telling him not to mess up the deputy's appearance. "I'm so proud of you," he whispered as Emma laughed at her friends' overreactions.

"I didn't do anything yet," she said in protest. "It's not like…"

"You are taking a chance. That is something," David insisted. His grip loosened and the slightly young woman slipped from his grip to smooth her dress and hair.

She scoffed at the compliment, letting her eyes dart around the small square hallway. "Is everyone here? Is he here?"

"Elsa and Anna just got here with Kris, Granny shut down the diner so she could be here. We've got the phones on forward so there won't be a missed call. John and Robin snagged front row seats along with Henry and Roland who are both thrilled to get to skip school for this. Katheryn's got the whole district attorney's office here. Graham got back last night and is somewhere around here with Tink. He was asking about Ruby by the way." Nobody missed the dramatic eye roll from the dark haired woman. "Leroy and the guys are taking bets on who the second person to cry will be."

"Second?" Emma queried, "And who would be the first?"

"Mary Margaret," David and Ruby said in unison to a groan from the pregnant teacher and a laugh from Emma.

"Sorry I asked. What about Killian?"

"Right here, love," Killian's voice rang out as he rounded the corner and almost knocked into some poor government worker who was carrying files. "My plane was late, as was that bloody taxi." Ignoring the whine of protests from Ruby and Mary Margaret, he swooped in and pulled Emma toward him, kissing her soundly before greeting the others.

"You and your dramatic entrances," she said, slipping her hand into his and squeezing. "I don't know why I put up with you."

His brow knitted together with a mock seriousness. "I would think I hadn't been gone that long. But if you should like, I'll enumerate each and every reason tonight." His lips skimmed over her temple and he tucked her into his side. "Now may we please start this blasted ceremony?"

Emma stood on the platform that was usually reserved for the elected officials meetings in chambers. Her hands were knotted behind her back as Regina read through a few details for the crowd that had assembled. The trick, she had decided was to not look out upon the crowd of people assembled, as her emotions might overwhelm her in such a moment. She was still the girl waiting on a family in so many ways, but as she stood there she realized she had created her own. She had friends and loved ones who were there to see her get a silly plaque and medal for her service to the city. They were there to celebrate after when she announced that she would be taking a detective position with the state police.

Killian sat between Henry and David, beaming with pride as the proclamation about her was read. He would tease her about it and hang it in the home they now shared. It would be next to his own certificate of completion of his law enforcement classes for water search and rescue. He called it their wall of fame with diplomas and certificates dotting it. There were pictures of them on vacations and trips. And there were photos from weddings and parties.

They had found the cottage together, having gone for a walk in the last remnants of winter with their hands entwined and talking about possible gifts for Henry's birthday. She had spotted it first, seeing the red and white for sale sign. Despite her more practical nature, Emma had already begun to dream of living there before she pointed it out to Killian. They had both fallen in love with it and without much fanfare or debate, moved in to it together without even bothering to tell anyone of their plans.

"I don't mind keeping you to myself," Killian had said on the Saturday when they found themselves surrounded by boxes and duplicates of many of their small appliances.

It had been that afternoon that she had found the ring, hidden amongst his things as though he had never imagined that she would look there. Perhaps he didn't know her so well, she thought, assuming she wouldn't take advantage of the opportunity to learn more about him. However, those thoughts were lost when she peaked inside the velvet box at the sapphire and diamond ring that seemed both traditional and unique at the same time.

But that had been a few weeks ago and he had given no indication that the ring was for her or that he had any inclination of giving it to her. Instead he spoke frequently of how he loved how things were between them, the easiness of their lives together. And she had not managed to do more than wonder about what he reaction would and should be to him.

Walking into the Rabbit Hole that night with the eyes of her friends and new co-workers upon her, she let her mind wander again. It was never an easy thing to introduce him to newcomers, as the word boyfriend still seemed inadequate. Her arm linked through his, they spoke to her new partner at the state police and learned of one of her first cases that she would be tackling.

"A lesser man might think you were looking to get away from me by changing jobs now that I have come on board," Killian said when they had a quiet moment. "I hope that is not the case."

She huffed out at the idea, slapping his shoulder playfully. "It is an opportunity I can't regret taking," she said. "I'll be a detective, something that I could never be with the sheriff's department."

"And I couldn't be prouder of you," he said, kissing the tip of her nose. "So long as I get to come home to you each night, I'll be wholly satisfied."

She did not manage to say another word to him as her phone chirped and David's message that he had taken Mary Margaret to the hospital was waiting for her. Sharing the message with Killian, she trotted off in search of Ruby to decide if they should go ahead to the hospital. The two women debate the options for a few minutes with Ruby deciding to go ahead and Emma see to her guests before joining her.

Most of the guests were understanding about the situation, sending congratulations and well wishes to the Nolans before hugging Emma and heading out into the damp spring evening. Only a few were remaining when Emma found Killian at the bar, nursing his drink and staring up at the silent television above it.

"I didn't mean to abandon you," she said, kissing his cheek before sitting down next to him on the empty stool. "It could be a long night knowing Mary Margaret."

"I'm sure she is prepared though," Killian said, his eyes flicking over to her. "You said she has been wanting this forever. I believe there are no two people more ready for the birth of little Emma Nolan."

"I think she's been making David do run throughs, mapping out the quickest ways to the hospital and even taking traffic patterns into consideration. There is nobody who plans like her." Reaching over, she grabbed his drink and took a sip before placing it back. "So do you want to head over there with me or should I drop you at the house first?"

He appeared to consider that for a moment, mulling over the option in his head. "I will go with you if you don't mind. I would like to offer my congratulations." There was no movement to match his words, not on either of their parts.

"You aren't moving," she pointed out.

He squinted with his smile, nervously scratching behind his ear as he watched her study him. "I was sitting here when I first saw you."

She looked up and down the bar at the mostly empty seats. "Yes, you were. I'm sorry I didn't notice you at first."

"I sat here for a while working up the nerve to speak to you, watching you reject a dozen blokes at least and assuming I'd be just another." He could remember the sickening feeling in his stomach, similar to the one he felt now. "I thought I would not be enough to capture your attention."

"You did though," she pointed out. "I couldn't even shake you even when I thought I wanted to."

"Do you still wish to?" he asked, suddenly reddening with some unspoken anxiety. "Do you ever wish…"

"I am glad that you spoke to me and even happier that you managed to help me fool Ruby," she said, her eyes softening her expression as the reason for his nervous demeanor hit her. "And I'll be equally as glad when you pull that ring out of your pocket."

He grunted as her words echoed in his head, the ring in his pocket feeling heavy. "You knew?"

"It's been in the drawer beside our bed since we moved in and before your training trip I noticed it was missing. So either we've been robbed by the most selective thieves in history or you have it on you." She shrugged. "I hope the reason is that you have it on you."

He gave her that flirtatiously lopsided smile as he pulled the ring out of his pocket and held it between his thumb and forefinger. "I was waiting for the perfect time, love," he said. "I hoped that if the moment was perfect you'd be less likely to run away from me."

Again her green eyes scanned the bar and again she lifted her shoulders in response. "I'd say that the place we first met makes for a perfect location."

"Aye," he said, reaching out hold her left hand in his. "So if I might ask. Would you do me the honor of being my wife, Emma Swan?"

She had been aware of his intention and mentally thought through how the moment might play out a dozen or so times. She'd imagined him making grand speeches or grander productions, but to hear the words just simply asked was more than she could handle at the moment. And as she struggled to catch her breath, she squeezed his hand in what she hoped was assurance that she was not about to run from him. He wanted an answer, a three letter answer if she could not manage anything more. Shakily, her left hand reached out and caressed his cheek, relishing the feeling of the stubble against her palm.

"Not to sound too needy, but an answer would be lovely about right now, darling."

Her mouth felt full of saw dust as she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. He gladly accepted the gesture, the warmth of her inviting him in without reservation. As their lips parted and their foreheads touched, he breathed out the question one more time in a way that almost made her laugh. Did he really believe she had not heard him?

"Yes."

 **So this fic has been a labor of love for me since I have struggled to keep it going while my life has gone through so many changes. I hope you have enjoyed it and I thank you all again for your encouragement whether it was a favorite or a follow, a kudo or a comment, you have kept me going.**

 **I had said I was going to take a bit of a break, but I have already started my next fic – Illusions of Another Life.**


End file.
